Out of the Clear Blue Sky
by Jestana
Summary: Someone from this universe gets drawn into the Potterverse. COMPLETED 12-17-03
1. Longlost Daughter

Out of the Clear Blue Sky  
  
Chapter One - Long-lost Daughter  
  
A/N: This started out as a self-insertion fic, but I changed my mind. Before anyone flames me, Tracey is *not* a Mary Sue.  
  
In the middle of the night, somewhere in southern California, a young woman suffering from insomnia decided to write. She sat in front of her computer, the glow reflecting off the lenses of her glasses as she typed. The only sound to be heard was the rapid clicktey-clack of the keyboard as she typed and the oscillating fan. Several cats wandered in and out of the room, wondering what she was up to. Occasionally, one would approach and ask for attention. The woman granted it, but only for a moment before continuing with her story. Little did she know what was about to befall her...  
  
At long last, she has finished. She leaned back in her chair with a sigh of relief. Another plot bunny conquered. A small smile playing around the corners of her mouth, she began to re-read the story she had written. It was fanfiction, of the Harry Potter variety, and she enjoyed reading it as well as writing it. As she continued to read, a frown appeared. The screen was rippling. Something was wrong. It could not be a storm because the sky outside was clear with a full moon shining brightly. To the astonished eyes of the three cats lounging in the room, a sudden slurping sound was heard and the young woman disappeared into the computer monitor. The screen glowed innocently.  
  
* * *  
  
Meanwhile, at Hogwarts...  
  
Minerva McGonagall was enjoying a walk around the lake when someone fell out of the clear blue sky and landed in the lake with a rather loud splash. Without stopping to think, Minerva slipped off her emerald green outer robe and dove in, swimming over to where waves were rippling outward from the person's point of entry into the lake. Diving under, Minerva spotted a girl floating, unconscious, nearby, wearing little more than an oversized T- shirt. Focusing on the fact that the girl was obviously in trouble, Minerva grabbed one of the girl's arms and began towing her up to the surface of the water. Taking a deep breath when her head broke the water, Minerva pulled the girl's head up above the water as well. The girl wasn't breathing. Due to her water-logged robes, it was with great difficulty that Minerva towed the girl to shore. Once there, Minerva stretched the girl out on her back, turned the girl's head to the side, placed one hand over the other at the base of the girl's diaphragm, and pushed upward with the heels of her hands. The girl began coughing up water after several pushes, curling in on herself. When she was done, she gave a low moan. "Ohhh, my poor head."  
  
Minerva rubbed the girl's back soothingly. "You're out of the water now, lass. You'll be alright."  
  
"Water?" the girl's eyes popped open and she sat up abruptly. This turned out to be a bad idea, because she clutched her head in her hands with another moan. "Oh, shit."  
  
"Don't move too fast," Minerva counseled the girl, still rubbing her back. "You'll make the headache worse."  
  
"Yeah, I kinda guessed that," the girl replied, eyes tightly shut. After a few moments, she slowly opened her eyes and looked around. "Where am I?"  
  
"I'm not sure if it's my place to tell you, lass," Minerva answered apologetically, "but I think it's time we went inside and got you something decent to wear."  
  
"Huh?" The girl looked down at herself. "Great. I end up God-knows-where and I'm in my nightshirt." She sighed.  
  
"Here." Minerva summoned her outer robe and draped it over the girl's shoulders. "It's warmer than that nightshirt."  
  
"Thanks." The girl slipped her arms into the sleeves and wrapped it around her. When they stood up, the robe was several inches too long for her and the sleeves were so long that they hid her hands. "Hmm, I think it's safe to say this is a tad too big for me."  
  
Minerva smiled at that. "Come on, lass, we don't have far to go."  
  
"Right." The girl allowed herself to be escorted up to the castle, too intent on not tripping over the hem of the outer robe to examine her surroundings. They made it to the castle without mishap. However, upon entering said castle, the girl gave a shriek. "A ghost!"  
  
"Yes, there are ghosts here," Minerva soothed the girl, waving the Gray Lady and Sir Nick away. "They won't harm you, lass. The hospital wing is this way."  
  
The girl balked at that. "Why are we going to the hospital wing? I thought you were going to get me some clothes? What's your name, anyway?"  
  
Minerva sighed. "My name is Minerva McGonagall and we're going up to the hospital wing because you managed to breathe quite a bit of water back there. What's *your* name, lass?"  
  
The girl grinned sheepishly up at Minerva. "Tracey Cooper."  
  
"I'm pleased to meet you, Tracey," Minerva answered formally, a bit disconcerted by the bright blue of the girl's eyes. "Now, let's get you up to the hospital wing."  
  
Tracey nodded and they continued up to the hospital wing without further incident. Poppy Pomfrey was waiting for them. "Hello, Minerva. What have we here?"  
  
"Poppy, this is Tracey Cooper," Minerva told her friend. "Miss Cooper, this is Poppy Pomfrey, the nurse."  
  
"Hello." Tracey pulled up the sleeve of Minerva's outer robe and shook the nurse's hand. "I'm pleased to meet you, Miss Pomfrey."  
  
"Hello." Poppy started slightly at the touch of the girl's hand, but didn't show any other signs of confusion. "What brings you here?"  
  
"She fell in the lake," Minerva explained. "I dove in after her to keep her from drowning."  
  
Poppy nodded. "Very well, both of you have a seat."  
  
Tracey obediently sat down on the bed Poppy indicated, but Minerva stayed where she was. "I didn't nearly drown, Poppy."  
  
"You've only recently recovered from those four Stunners and dove into the lake, which is cold anyway, on top of that," Poppy told Minerva firmly, "therefore, sit."  
  
Recognizing Poppy's tone of voice, Minerva sat down on the next bed over without another word. She watched, bemused, as Poppy cast a Diagnostic spell on the girl. Tracey didn't object, but she was fascinated by the spell and watched Poppy's face. When Poppy had terminated the spell, she disappeared into her office and returned with a potion for Tracey to drink. The girl eyed it suspiciously, but a glance at Poppy's face told her to drink it without objecting. After that, Poppy gave the girl some dry nightclothes to change into, returning Minerva's outer robe to her. Minerva draped it across the bed for the time being, since it was still damp, having already cast a drying charm on the black dress she'd worn underneath it. After the girl had changed, Poppy gave her a potion to help her sleep and tucked her in. Before long, the girl was fast asleep, looking very young to Minerva.  
  
Putting up a set of curtains around the girl's bed, Poppy walked over to talk to Minerva, who'd let her hair down so it could dry. "How did she end up in the lake, Minerva?"  
  
The dark-haired witch shrugged as Poppy cast a Diagnostic spell. "I was walking along the lake when she literally dropped out of the sky and into the lake. After that, I was too busy trying to get to her before she drowned to wonder she came from."  
  
Poppy terminated the spell. "Well, aside from getting wet, you're fine."  
  
Minerva smiled. "What about the girl? Will she be fine?"  
  
"Yes, she'll recover just fine," Poppy replied with a small smile.  
  
Minerva frowned when she saw it. "What is it?"  
  
Poppy gave her friend an innocent look. "What is what?"  
  
Minerva returned the innocent look with a stern one. "Why are you smiling like that?"  
  
Poppy's smile widened. "Miss Cooper is hardly a girl, Minerva." The Transfiguration professor merely raised an eyebrow, waiting. "She's in her early to mid-twenties. She's just small for her age."  
  
Minerva glanced over at the other bed. "Indeed." Minerva sighed. "I should go tell Albus about our...guest."  
  
"I'm already here, Minerva," Albus' voice brought Poppy and Minerva around to look at him. He stood framed in the doorway, his hands folded into the voluminous sleeves of the plum-colored robes he was wearing. His hair and beard gleamed silver in the light shed by the bricks that glowed along the ceiling. He entered and approached the two women. "Now, who is our guest?"  
  
Minerva was the one who answered, telling Albus how Tracey had ended up in the hospital wing. "To be honest, I have no idea where she came from, Albus."  
  
Poppy spoke up before Albus could answer. "And you won't wake her up to ask her. She needs sleep right now."  
  
Albus nodded and turned to Minerva. "It would seem we have some time on our hands, my dear. What do you say to a game of chess?"  
  
Minerva smiled and took his arm as she stood up. "I'll win."  
  
"Not this time, my dear," he replied as they left the hospital wing.  
  
She raised an eyebrow at him. "Are you sure, Albus?"  
  
He smiled in return. "Does it really matter which of us wins?"  
  
She shook her head, smiling. "Not really."  
  
"Good." Together, they continued down the corridor.  
  
* * *  
  
She woke slowly, too warm and comfortable to move. The pillow was soft under her cheek and the bed was so soft. She sighed contentedly and burrowed into her pillow a little more. "Miss Cooper?"  
  
She frowned at the sound of the voice. There was something familiar about it. As if it belonged to a friend she'd not seen in years. Puzzled, she rolled onto her back and reluctantly opened her eyes. Everything was blurry. She wondered why until she realized she was missing something. "Where are my glasses?"  
  
"Here." Someone pressed them into her hand and she slipped them onto the bridge of her nose. The three people standing by her bed came into focus.  
  
Two were woman and one was a man. Both women were tall and slender, though one had black hair pulled back into a bun and wore square spectacles and emerald green robes. The other woman had gray hair pulled back into a knot at the nape of her neck and her robes were stylized nurse's whites. The black-haired one was Minerva McGonagall, her rescuer. The gray-haired one was Poppy Pomfrey, the nurse. The man, however, made her pause. He had long silver hair and a matching beard. Bright blue eyes twinkled behind the half- moon glasses perched on a long and crooked nose. For some reason, she thought his hair should be auburn instead of silver. She put a hand to her head and gave it a shake. "Miss Cooper?"  
  
She reluctantly raised her eyes to meet the man's. "Who are you?"  
  
He smiled behind his beard. "I am Albus Dumbledore. How did you come to be here?"  
  
She thought hard. "I was at home in California. It was the middle of the night and I couldn't sleep because it was so hot and muggy. So I turned on my computer and started writing. Once I started, I couldn't seem to stop. I must have written pages and pages, but I kept going. Finally, I finished the story I was writing and saved it. Then I started re-reading it and something happened to my computer." She frowned. "The next thing I knew, I'd fallen into icy-cold water, and then I blacked out. When I came to, I was soaking wet and my head was pounding." She looked at Miss McGonagall. "Thanks for pulling me out of the water."  
  
Mr. Dumbledore eyed Miss McGonagall with twinkling eyes. "I heard about that."  
  
Miss McGonagall looked a little embarrassed, a faint pink appearing in her cheeks. "You're welcome, Miss Cooper."  
  
Tracey settled back against her pillows, trying to figure out why the names and seemed so familiar. "Now, where is here?"  
  
Mr. Dumbledore sighed and sat down on the edge of her bed. "Miss Cooper, what do you know of magic?"  
  
She frowned. "Only that I wish I could do magic myself." She looked at each of them suspiciously. "Why?"  
  
"Miss Cooper, 'here' is Hogwarts, the finest school for witchcraft and wizardry in England," Mr. Dumbledore told her quietly.  
  
Tracey stared at him, suddenly remembering why the names were so familiar. She took a deep, shaky breath. "This can't be true. This is all a dream."  
  
She saw the adults exchanged puzzled glances. "What do you mean, Miss Cooper?"  
  
She drew her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around them, unconsciously withdrawing into herself. "In the world I come from, magic is nothing but fantasy. And there's a series of famous books about a boy named Harry Potter." The adults exchanged glances once more, but they were surprised now instead of puzzled. "In these books, Harry attends Hogwarts to learn how to be a wizard. The Headmaster is named Albus Dumbledore, the Deputy Headmistress is Minerva McGonagall, and the school nurse is Madam Pomfrey." She looked up at them helplessly. "The descriptions are very accurate."  
  
Professor Dumbledore abruptly stood and crossed to the window. Professor McGonagall watched him, a worried expression on her face. "What is it, Professor?"  
  
He turned back from the window with a sigh. Tracey was surprised at how old he seemed. "I wondered when this would come up."  
  
Professor McGonagall and Madam Pomfrey exchanged puzzled looks. "What do you mean, Professor?"  
  
He waved his hand and a chair appeared beside the bed, which he sat in. Another wave of his hand and a chair appeared beside his. Without a word, Professor McGonagall sat down in it. He sighed and began to speak. "I never told you that I was married once before, Minerva, did I?"  
  
Professor McGonagall shook her head, dark green eyes focused on Professor Dumbledore. "No, but I'm not surprised that you were married once. You've lived a long time."  
  
Professor Dumbledore smiled at that. "Yes, I have."  
  
Professor McGonagall's voice was soft when she next spoke. "What was her name?"  
  
Professor Dumbledore glanced at Tracey before answering. "Sandra Cooper." Tracey drew in a deep breath. "She was a Muggle, but it didn't matter to either of us. We were very much in love."  
  
"What happened?" Tracey asked, her voice choked.  
  
Professor Dumbledore sighed, folding his hands in the sleeves of his robes. She was sure they were shaking. "We were married for only a few months when we realized she was pregnant. We were so thrilled. It seemed nothing could shatter our happiness." He sighed again, a pained look appearing in his eyes. "How wrong we were."  
  
Professor McGonagall touched his shoulder, gripping it comfortingly. He raised one hand to cover hers. Tracey glanced at Madam Pomfrey, but the medi-witch's face was neutral.  
  
He took a deep breath. "As you know, there are spells to determine if the baby will be male or female and we'd learned that Sandra was carrying a girl. When Sandra was about seven months pregnant, she went shopping with her mother and sister for baby clothes. I never saw her again. She just...vanished. I searched for her for years, but never found her. I was devastated. That's why I decided to become a teacher. Since I had lost my chance to be a real father, I would teach and train children to become witches and wizards."  
  
Tracey was puzzled. "But why tell us all of this? What does this have to do with me?"  
  
"Because I see Sandra in your face, Miss Cooper," Professor Dumbledore replied softly. "I hear her in your voice. I believe you are our daughter."  
  
She frowned. "But, that would mean that Mother was somehow transported to an entirely different universe."  
  
Professor Dumbledore nodded. "Precisely."  
  
"I didn't know there was even the *possibility* of alternate universes," Tracey muttered, running her fingers through her thick auburn hair. "This is a bit much to take in. You realize that, don't you?"  
  
Another nod. "Yes, but I have one question I must ask you."  
  
"What is it?" Tracey asked, meeting his gaze without flinching.  
  
"Have you ever known your father?" Professor Dumbledore asked.  
  
Tracey looked at her knees. "Mother married a nice man before I was born, but, no, I never knew my real father. She only had one picture of him, and it was in black and white." Tears filled her eyes. "She refused to tell me his name, saying I was better off not knowing."  
  
She jumped when his hand touched her arm. "There are spells that will help us determine who your parents are. I'm fairly certain you are my daughter, but it would be nice to know. Would you like to know who your real father is?"  
  
Tracey sniffled and nodded. "Yes, it would be nice."  
  
Professor Dumbledore looked across the bed at Madam Pomfrey, who'd listened in silence the whole time. "Poppy?"  
  
The medi-witch nodded and waved her wand. A rainbow-colored mist appeared and sank into Tracey's body. Madam Pomfrey closed her eyes and focused for a moment, before opening them and terminating the spell. Her brown eyes were moist when she looked at Professor Dumbledore. "Tracey is your daughter, Professor. Sandra is her mother."  
  
The tears spilled down Tracey's cheeks as Professor Dumbledore gathered her into a warm hug. She wrapped her arms around her father --she had a father!- - and squeezed him tight. "I always wondered what had happened to you."  
  
* * *  
  
Poppy Pomfrey was the only one who noticed when Minerva got up and left the hospital wing at brisk pace. Concerned for her friend, Poppy followed her. Although Poppy lost sight of Minerva eventually, she had a pretty good idea where her friend would be going. When she reached the North Tower, she found Minerva perched on the window ledge, just staring out over the grounds. Poppy watched her for a moment, trying to decide what to do. As she watched, a tear slowly slipped down Minerva's cheek. "Min?"  
  
Minerva hastily swiped the tear away. "You know I don't like that name, Poppy."  
  
Encouraged, Poppy crossed the room to stand by her friend. "How else was I going to get a reaction out of you?"  
  
Minerva gave a watery chuckle, blinking rapidly behind her glasses. "You know me too well, Poppy."  
  
"Considering how long we've known each other..." Poppy trailed off, wondering how to bring up the question she wanted to ask.  
  
Minerva sighed and rested her chin on her knees. "I don't know what's wrong with me, Poppy. I'm happy that Albus has found his daughter, but I feel sad, too."  
  
Poppy laid a hand on her friend's shoulder. "Minerva, can't you tell him this?"  
  
Minerva shook her head and sighed. "Oh, Poppy, I don't know *what* to do. I mean, it's obvious that she's his daughter, once you think about it. She has his eyes and his hair, after all."  
  
"Her mother must have been tiny, then," Poppy mused.  
  
"What do you mean?" Minerva looked up at her friend.  
  
Poppy raised an eyebrow. "You noticed how small she is. She can't have gotten that from Albus."  
  
Minerva chuckled and looked out the window once more. "Do you think she's a witch?"  
  
Poppy shrugged. "Who knows? Albus is a powerful wizard, but her mother was a Muggle. We'll just have to wait and see."  
  
Minerva sighed. "I guess so. Thanks."  
  
"For what?" Poppy was puzzled.  
  
"For talking with me," Minerva replied. "For being my friend."  
  
"You're welcome, Minerva." Poppy hugged her friend and left the Deputy Headmistress to her thoughts. 


	2. Getting to Know You

Out of the Clear Blue Sky Chapter Two – Getting to Know You 

A/N: Oh, I forgot to mention that this takes place shortly after OotP ends.

Albus found Minerva in her rooms several hours later. She was curled up in one of the window seats, a sketchpad in her lap. The heavy lead pencil she sketched with was idle in her fingers, but Albus knew that his Deputy was a talented artist, no matter how much she denied it. "Minerva, I have a request for you."

She raised an eyebrow and sat up a little straighter. "Yes, Albus?"

 "Would you mind taking Tracey to Hogsmeade?" he asked. "To buy clothes and other items she might need?"

The eyebrow climbed higher. "Why not take her yourself? She's your daughter."

Albus gave an uncomfortable shrug. "Yes, well, she requested that she be accompanied by you or Poppy. She mentioned needing some, er, 'female' items."

A small smile appeared. "Very well, I would be delighted to take Miss Cooper to Hogsmeade."

He smiled and kissed her cheek. "Thank you, Minerva."

Long after he had left, Minerva remained where she was, one hand covering her cheek where he had kissed her.

*          *          *

The following day, after breakfast, Minerva and Tracey headed down to Hogsmeade. Tracey had borrowed some robes from Xiomara Hooch, who was the closest in size to the young woman, but they were still a little loose on her. Neither said much as they walked along the path to Hogsmeade. Minerva wasn't quite sure what to make of Tracey and, to be frank; Tracey was in awe of Minerva. She'd read the Harry Potter books in the universe she'd come from and Minerva had always been one of her favorite characters. To actually come face to face with her and interact with her was an unexpected honor. It was also very daunting because the Deputy Headmistress didn't look very approachable. Tracey sighed and kicked at a rock.

 "Is something wrong, Miss Cooper?" Minerva asked, having heard the sigh.

Tracey shook her head. "Not really."

Minerva raised an eyebrow at that. "What do you mean by that?"

Tracey shrugged. "I've read about Hogwarts and Hogsmeade, but it's still very different to actually walk through Hogwarts, to actually visit Hogsmeade." She looked up at Minerva. "Do you think I'll get to visit Diagon Alley?"

Minerva nodded. "Eventually, yes."

Tracey grinned. "Excellent."

Minerva smiled at that. Something the younger woman had said stuck in her mind and she mulled it over. "You say there have actually been books written about Harry Potter?"

Tracey nodded. "Yes. There's one for each year he attends at Hogwarts."

 "All seven years?" Minerva asked.

Tracey shook her head regretfully. "No, the book about his fifth year had just come out a few months before I left the other universe." She smiled. "It was great, although I wish Sirius hadn't died."

Minerva sighed. She'd been in St. Mungo's when Sirius had died. She still wondered if she could have prevented his death if she'd been at the Department of Mysteries. "He was a good man. Professor Dumbledore still blames himself for Sirius' death."

Tracey frowned. "Wait, how long ago was that?"

Minerva looked down at the younger woman. "This past June."

Excitement suddenly glimmered in the bright blue eyes so like her father's. "So, Harry's going to be starting his sixth year in September?"

Minerva nodded. "Yes, he is."

Tracey suddenly looked embarrassed. "I'm sorry, it must be rather boring to have to answer all my questions."

 "No, it's not," Minerva assured her. "It's rather fascinating, actually."

Tracey looked surprised. "Really?"

 "Yes, really," Minerva nodded. Finally, they reached Hogsmeade. "What would you like to buy first?"

 "Clothes," Tracey answered promptly. "I can't keep borrowing Madam Hooch's robes."

Minerva nodded. "Robes, it is."

They proceeded down the street. The story that had been agreed upon late yesterday afternoon had been quite simple: Tracey was Albus' daughter by Sandra, but she'd accidentally drunk an Ageing Potion that had left her at the age of twenty.

In what seemed to be no time at all, they had arrived at Gladrags Wizardwear. Tracey was in heaven. She knew what she liked and had an instinctive grasp of what would look good on her. In no time at all, she had been outfitted with a range of robes and cloaks that suited her tastes and several pairs of shoes, all practical. She bought little jewelry, settling on an aquamarine pendant and matching earrings. When they left the shop, Tracey wore a royal blue robe over a pale cream dress. Next, they went to a hair-care shop, where Tracey laughed herself silly over some of the claims on the bottles of shampoo potions. After a few minutes of deliberation, she chose one that made no claims other than that it would clean her hair. She bought some hair ties to keep her hair out of her face and used one to pull her thick hair back into a ponytail, rather than let the auburn locks curl around her slender shoulders. From there, they visited a stationary store, where Tracey bought quills, parchment, and a little notebook she could keep in her pocket to write things down in. Last of all, they went to the Three Broomsticks for a drink before returning to Hogwarts.

They sat down with a mutual sigh of relief. They'd been on their feet almost non-stop since they had arrived in Hogsmeade. "Oh, there's a reason I don't do this very often."

Minerva chuckled quietly at that comment, but Rosmerta appeared before she could say anything. "Minerva, what a surprise." Before Minerva could reply, Rosmerta had turned to Tracey. "And who might you be?"

 "Tracey Cooper," Tracey replied, offering her hand.

Rosmerta shook it. "You look familiar."

Tracey glanced at Minerva, asking for guidance in answering Rosmerta's question. Minerva nodded. "Albus Dumbledore is my father."

 "Really?" Rosmerta glanced at Minerva before asking her next question. "And who is your mother? Minerva?"

Minerva gaped at the other woman while Tracey laughed. "No, my mother is dead now. Her name was Sandra Cooper."

Rosmerta frowned. "I don't remember Professor Dumbledore ever being married. Do you, Minerva?"

 "Sandra Cooper was his first wife," Minerva told the other witch stiffly. "She died when Tracey was a baby."

Rosmerta raised an eyebrow. "When was that?"

 "Over a hundred years ago," Tracey admitted.

 "You look a little young to be over a hundred years old," Rosmerta commented.

Tracey shrugged. "I accidentally drank an Ageing Potion. It muddled up my memories."

 "Oh," Rosmerta looked surprised, but hid it. "Can I get either of you something to drink?"

 "Two butterbeers will be fine," Minerva told the barmistress.

 "Right," Rosmerta turned and left.

Neither said a word until Rosmerta had brought their butterbeers and left. Tracey drank deeply from hers, but Minerva only fidgeted with hers, running a long finger along the rim of her tankard. Tracey set her tankard down with a quiet thump. "Is something wrong, Professor?"

Minerva didn't say anything, staring moodily into her butterbeer. Tracey reached out and touched the professor's arm. Minerva jumped, sloshing her butterbeer. "I'm sorry, Miss Cooper, did you say something?"

Tracey smiled slightly. "I asked if there was something wrong."

Minerva shook her head, cleaning up the butterbeer that had spilled with a wave of her wand. "No, there's nothing wrong."

 "Uh-huh," Tracey agreed skeptically before taking another swig of her butterbeer. It was better than she'd thought it would be. She set the tankard down with a sigh. "Yum."

Minerva smiled slightly at the happy look on the other woman's face and drank some of her butterbeer as well. "It's been awhile since I had any."

Tracey raised an auburn eyebrow at Minerva much as Albus would. "How can you *not* drink this? It's great."

Minerva glared. "It's not the only good drink to be found, Miss Cooper."

Tracey had the grace to look abashed. "Sorry, Professor, I didn't mean to upset you. It's just-- well, we don't have butterbeer where I came from."

 "Oh." Minerva felt a little awkward. The younger woman had only been trying to make conversation and she'd bitten her head off. It didn't help that Tracey was a rather vivid--and uncomfortable--reminder of her father. Minerva cleared her throat. "Well, shall we go? I imagine your father misses you."

Tracey smiled brightly at that. "Yes, and I miss him."

They paid for their butterbeer and headed back up to Hogwarts in silence. Minerva helped Tracey carry all her bags up to her rooms, which were near Albus', and beat a hasty retreat to her own rooms. It had been nice to get out of the castle for a while, but Minerva was exhausted. Without bothering to even take her glasses off, the Transfiguration professor stretched out on her bed and fell asleep.

*          *          *

A knock at the door startled Tracey, causing yet another ink blot to appear on the parchment. Muttering several choice curses, she threw her quill down on the desk. Ever since she and Professor McGonagall had returned from Hogsmeade, she'd stayed in her room and taught herself how to write with a quill. It wasn't as easy as it looked. "Tracey?"

Grimacing, Tracey got up and opened the door. "Hello, Father."

He smiled as he stepped past her into her sitting room. "Hello, Tracey."

Tracey closed the door behind him. "What brings you to my humble abode?"

He chuckled quietly. "I just wanted to see how you're settling in."

 "Oh, everything's fine," Tracey told him airily, moving casually over to the desk to hide the results the last hour's worth of efforts at writing with a quill.

A silver eyebrow rose. "Are you sure?"

She nodded vigorously. "Yes, I am."

 "What's that on the desk behind you?" he asked quietly.

She sighed and stepped aside. He picked up the parchment. "The...quick brown...fox jumped...over the lazy...dog." He looked at his daughter. "What is this?"

She blushed profusely. "I'm trying to teach myself how to write with a quill."

 "You didn't use quills before?" he asked, setting the parchment back on the desk.

She shook her head. "No, we used pens or pencils." She sighed. "In the books, JKR made it sound so easy."

 "Who's JKR?" Albus inquired curiously.

 "The woman who wrote the Harry Potter books I mentioned yesterday," Tracey told him truthfully. "She was a gifted writer."

 "What do you mean?" Albus sat down in her desk chair.

 "Well, she made the world so real to the readers," Tracey explained, struggling to place in words what she knew in her heart. "It's as if she was using some magic to translate what Harry saw and tell it to us." A blush suddenly bloomed in her cheeks. "Those of us who were very fond of the books began writing stories based on the books while we waited for the fifth one to be published. I, um, tended to focus on you and McGonagall."

His eyebrow rose again. "Indeed? What, exactly, would you write?"

Her blush deepened. "Uh, what we generally called fluff."

 "Fluff," he repeated. "What does that mean?"

 "Romance." Her face was bright red now and she couldn't even look at him. She looked at her feet instead.

Albus didn't say a word. Tracey chanced a glance up at his face and saw that there was a pensive look on it. She wondered what it meant. Finally, he spoke. "I see."

She breathed a sigh of relief. He wasn't mad at her. "It was mainly due to having an over-active imagination and too much time on my hands. I wrote more during the summer than when I was attending classes. And I didn't *just* write about you and Professor McGonagall. I wrote about others, too. And--"

He held up a hand to stop the flow of words. "Tracey, you're babbling."

 "I am?" she asked, disconcerted. He nodded. "Oh, well, I do that sometimes."

 "Maybe Sandra should have named you Brooke instead," he commented with a smile.

 "What do you mean?" Tracey asked, puzzled.

He rose. "Never mind, Tracey. Would you like to eat dinner with the rest of the staff?"

 "You mean with Snape and Hooch and the others?" she asked, wide-eyed.

He nodded. "Yes. It would be the perfect time to introduce you."  
Tracey thought for a moment. "Yes, I'd like that."

 "Excellent." He kissed her forehead. "I'll come for you at six-thirty, then."

 "Yes, Father," Tracey hugged him. "Thank you."

 "For what?" he asked.

 "Just for doing all of this, I guess," she blinked back the tears that threatened to fall.

 "You're quite welcome." He hugged her and left.

Tracey stood in the middle of the room for a moment, replaying the conversation in her head. Suddenly, her eyes widened and she started to laugh.

*          *          *

When Tracey entered the Great Hall on Albus' arm that evening, Minerva thought for sure that the young woman would faint. She stopped short and simply stared. The House Tables had been pushed to the sides of the Hall at the beginning of the summer holidays and the High Table now ran down the middle of the Hall itself. After a moment, Albus glanced down Tracey questioningly and the young woman nodded. Together, they approached the High Table. Everyone present except Minerva, Poppy, and Xiomara were staring at the newcomer with interest.

Severus was the first to speak. "Who is this, Headmaster? Surely she can't be our new Defense Against Dark Arts professor."

The young woman bristled, much as a cat getting ready to fight. A long, thin hand covered the slender one resting on his arm. "Ladies and Gentlemen, I would like you to meet my daughter," there was a rustle as staff members exchanged glances, "Tracey Cooper."

As Albus introduced his daughter to individual staff members, Minerva watched for the young woman's reaction to each. She shook Hagrid's large hand enthusiastically, studied Severus closely as he gave her hand a perfunctionary shake, and greeted each of the others more politely, although she seemed pleased by the fact that Filius was shorter than she was. More than one staff member shot a glance in Minerva's direction, especially when Albus indicated that the two knew each other. Minerva ignored the pointed looks and waited patiently for the introductions to be finished.

Once they were all seated and began to eat, the usual talk started, with most of the questions being directed at Tracey, who sat on the other side of Albus from Minerva. "Miss Cooper," Severus drawled from his place beside Minerva, "would Minerva happen to be your mother?"

The Transfiguration professor shot the Potions Master a death glare while Albus nearly choked on the sip he'd taken of his pumpkin juice. Tracey smiled sweetly at the Potions Master. "No, Professor, though I wouldn't mind." Minerva saw Xiomara, Poppy, and Sylvia all exchange grins at this and resolved to avoid them after supper. "My mother was a Muggle named Sandra. She died when I was young."

All eyes turned to Albus, who looked a little uncomfortable under the scrutiny. "You never mentioned that you had been married, Headmaster."

He cleared his throat. "Sandra and I grew up together and it seemed fitting that we marry."

Everyone looked at Tracey. "You hardly look like you're more than sixteen, Miss Cooper," squeaked Filius.

She grinned. "Actually, I'm twenty, Professor." Looks were exchanged around the table. Tracey shrugged. "I accidentally drank an Ageing Potion. My memory's all muddled up."

 "Typical Gryffindor," Severus murmured into his pumpkin juice.

 "Severus," hissed Serena Sinistra, who happened to be seated on his other side, and poked him with her elbow. "That's not nice."

He calmly placed his goblet back on the table and resumed eating. "It's the truth."

 "Professor Snape?" Tracey had leaned back in her chair to look at him. He ignored her. She continued anyway. "If you have a comment, please tell it to me and not your pumpkin juice."

Minerva hid her smile by pretending to cough. Xiomara didn't bother hiding her amusement. Severus kept his eyes on his food, but Minerva was sure she saw his lips twitch. Most people ignored his rude comments; few ever came up with good retorts.

The conversation became more relaxed after that, with various questions being asked of Tracey at irregular intervals. One of the first questions to come up was where Tracey had been during the last hundred years or so. She replied that she had been in America among the Muggles, doing some research. Another question to come up was why her name was Cooper and not Dumbledore.

She glanced up at Albus with a twinkle in her eyes before replying. "Oh, well, my name was originally Brooke Dumbledore," --Albus chuckled for some reason-- "but it would have stuck out in the Muggle world, so I changed it to Tracey Cooper."

A question posed by Professor Vector made Minerva tense, however. "Is there a particular branch of magic that you're particularly proficient at, Miss Cooper?"

Beside Minerva, Albus appeared calm, but she noticed the ever-so-slight tremor of his hands. Tracey had yet to show any signs of being magical at all, but that didn't necessarily mean she *wasn't* magical. Tracey tilted her head to the side, thinking. Finally, she spoke. "It's been so long since I used my magic that I'm not real sure anymore. I imagine it'll eventually come to me, but I can't tell you right now."

The others accepted this explanation and Minerva breathed a sigh of relief. As the meal continued, Tracey proved to be quite adept at answering difficult questions with almost-casual ease. By the time everyone had finished eating dessert, though, she seemed to be quite worn out. At the young woman's request, Minerva accompanied father and daughter from the Great Hall. "I need some fresh air."

Without a word, the three of them went outside and Tracey gratefully sat down on the stone steps, breathing deeply of the evening air. Minerva asked a question that had been bothering her off and on throughout the day. "Why would people assume I am Tracey's mother?"

Albus looked at Minerva with a twinkle in his eyes. "It would appear that the large amount of time we spend in each other's company has generated some rather...interesting rumors."

Minerva stared up at him. "What?"

Albus glanced down at Tracey, who was staring determinedly out over the sweeping lawns. "Tracey, would you care to explain?"

She shook her head. "I've already embarrassed myself once. I won't do it twice."

Albus chuckled. Minerva was confused. "What do you mean? Albus?"

 "In the other universe, the readers of the Harry Potter books would often write stories based on those books and a rather large group of them seemed to think that there was something more than friendship between the two of us," Albus explained.

Minerva stared up at him, feeling her cheeks grow warm. That had hit a little too close to the mark for her personal comfort. "I see."

Tracey hooted with laughter at that. "That's what Father said when I told him."

Her cheeks burning, Minerva turned and hurried inside. She didn't know how she could face Albus now.

Back on the steps, Albus turned to his daughter. Tracey was staring at the doors with a thoughtful expression on her face. "What did I say?"

Tracey shrugged and stood up. "I don't know, but I need to do some thinking."

Without another word, Tracey disappeared into the castle. Still on the front steps, Albus watched night settle over the grounds and the moon and stars come out. He doubted he would ever figure women out. They were just too complicated. Shrugging, he turned and went inside as well.


	3. Realizations

Out of the Clear Blue Sky 

**Chapter Three – Realizations**

A/N: And, in case you haven't figured it out by now, the primary pairing is AD/MM. A friend pointed out that Tracey seemed to be handling the change in circumstances rather well.

Tracey made her way through the corridors of the school, trying to process everything that happened in the last few days. She still wasn't sure how she'd ended up here, but the possibility that it wasn't a dream kept nagging at her. She paused at the top of a staircase and examined her surroundings. The floors were made of stone, but no rugs or carpets covered them. _Probably too much of a hassle to keep them clean,_ she mused. Portraits and suits of armor lined the stone walls, as well as torches that brightened when someone walked came near; only to dim when said person had passed. The ceiling was dark and shadowy, as if it didn't want her to know what it was made of. She shook her head. That was silly. _It must have taken forever to build this place,_ she mused as she continued on her way, the only sound to be heard was the slight swish of her robes and the occasional crackle of the torches. _Even with magic to help._ She sighed. _How can this be anything but a dream? Any moment now, Mom'll be waking me up and telling me off for playing on the computer at two in the morning._ She smiled wryly at the thought. Her mother had never really trusted technology and now she knew why, at least in part. She sighed and leaned her forehead against the door to her rooms. Why her, though? Why now? Straightening up, she said the password and the door to her rooms opened. She plopped onto the sofa and stared blindly into the fireplace.

She was in Harry Potter's world, just months after the end of the fifth book. She was the daughter of Albus Dumbledore and a Muggle. She was staying at Hogwarts. Professor McGonagall, Professor Flitwick, and the others were real people. She'd met and talked with Madam Rosmerta. She'd laughed with Albus Dumbledore. The whole bloody 'Potterverse' she'd read about and written about and dreamed about was real! She promptly fainted as the full impact of this realization hit her.

*          *          *

Half an hour later, Minerva knocked on the door to Tracey's rooms. Something had prompted her to seek the young woman out and Minerva wasn't sure why. When she didn't get an answer, Minerva spoke up, "Miss Cooper? Are you awake?"

When she still didn't get an answer, the Transfiguration professor said the password and slipped through the unlocked door. Upon entering the young woman's sitting room, she found nothing amiss. The furnishings were plain and sparse, since the new occupant of the rooms hadn't had much time to decorate and furnish them the way she would like to. The furniture had been rearranged a little to suit Tracey's tastes. "Miss Cooper?"

A moan behind Minerva brought her around to face the fireplace and the back of the sofa in front of it. Moving cautiously, she looked over the back of the sofa, just as Tracey opened her eyes. The young woman gave a screech of surprise that startled Minerva and was across the room in the blink of an eye, one hand over her heart. "I'm sorry, Professor. You startled me."

Minerva waved off the young woman's apologies. "It's all right, Miss Cooper. I didn't think you'd be asleep."

Tracey frowned, sinking into an armchair. "I don't think I was asleep."

Minerva stared at her. "Then what were you doing there?"

A flush of embarrassment crept into the other woman's cheeks. "I, uh, fainted."

 "Why?" Minerva sat in a chair near Tracey's.

 "I think because I fully realized what's happened to me." She stood and began to pace the room, reminding the older woman of a caged lion. "I mean, I'd read about this world and wrote stories about it, but I never thought I'd ever actually _be_ here." She sighed and raked her fingers through her thick hair, the torchlight edging auburn with gold. "And now, here I am. I'm _living_ at Hogwarts. I've visited Hogsmeade; I've drunk butterbeer and pumpkin juice; I've met the professors and Rosmerta; I've chatted with Madam Hooch and Pomfrey. Dumbledore is my _father_, for God's sake." Her words tumbled out, pell-mell, and she gesticulated wildly as she continued to prowl the sitting room, her robes swishing behind her. "All of this is _real_, Professor. I'm not dreaming or hallucinating. And--"

 "--perhaps you should calm down," Minerva finally suggested. "There is no use working yourself into a state."

Nodding and taking a deep breath, Tracey sat back down in her chair. They sat in silence for a few moments before Tracey suddenly sat up straight with a start. "Did I do magic?"

Minerva nodded. "Yes, you managed to magic yourself across the room when I startled you earlier."

She sat silently for a few moments, just absorbing the thought. Finally, with a loud whoop, she leapt from her chair and began dancing around the room, occasionally punching a fist into the air. Minerva watched the younger witch for a few moments, bemused by the display. A knock at the door ended the victory dance and Tracey rushed to it, almost wrenching it open. Albus stood framed in the doorway, his fist posed for another knock. He let his hand drop and took in his daughter's disheveled appearance and the presence of his Deputy before speaking. "I heard noise and decided to investigate. What have you two been doing?"

Minerva rose from her chair. "I decided to look in on Miss Cooper before retiring for the night, Albus."

 "Father! I'm a witch!" Tracey bounced eagerly on the balls of her feet, a broad smile on her face. "I can do magic!"

Albus looked at Minerva, who'd come up to stand beside the shorter woman, for confirmation. "Yes, she did magic. I startled her and it triggered her magic."

 "Well, congratulations, Tracey." Albus enfolded his daughter in a warm hug. "We have much to discuss, but it will have to wait until morning."

Minerva slipped past Albus into the corridor as Tracey replied, "Aw, Fa-ther!"

The older witch hid a smile as she shut the door behind her. Albus and Tracey were steadily growing closer. As she made her way to her rooms, Minerva found herself wondering where that left her. Shaking her head to get rid of those thoughts, she continued on her way.

*          *          *

It took every scrap of the courage that had made the Sorting Hat put her Gryffindor instead of Ravenclaw for Minerva to raise her hand and knock on the door to the Headmaster's office the next morning. When she'd woken up, she'd found a note on her pillow, requesting her presence in Albus' office as soon as possible. She could only assume it had something to do with Tracey Cooper and her magical training. Thoughts of the young woman who'd literally dropped from the sky had led to thoughts of what she had revealed to Minerva the previous evening. If people who'd read the books were able to pick up on the fact that Minerva and Albus were closer than one might expect, then what of people who actually _interacted_ with the two? More importantly, Tracey had implied that many fans thought there was a romance of some sort between the Headmaster and his Deputy. The significance of such an opinion was not lost on Minerva and she wondered if there was more to Albus' actions towards her than she'd first thought. Deciding to ponder the full implications later, Minerva had finished getting dressed and left for the Headmaster's office.

The opening of the door in front of her disturbed her thoughts and she entered the Headmaster's office. "You wished to see me, Professor?"

 "Good morning, Minerva." Albus' eyes twinkled at her from behind his spectacles as he stood and walked around his desk to greet her.

 "Good morning," she replied, looking around the room. They were the only two present. "What did you wish to see me about?"

 "We need to make arrangements for Tracey's training in magic," he explained, coming to a stop in front of her. "However, she needs to be present first."

Minerva smiled in response. "Very well." She moved away and sat down in one of the chairs facing the large desk. "What shall we do while we wait for her?"

He seated himself in the other chair. "Talking sounds good to me."

 "What is there to talk about?" she asked, truly curious.

He shifted in his seat, appearing to be a little uncomfortable, "The stories Tracey mentioned last night?"

She deliberately pretended not to understand what he meant. "What stories?"

 "The ones fans of these 'Harry Potter' books wrote concerning us." The twinkle returned to his eyes. "Surely you remember the fact that I had mentioned them last night."

 "Oh, yes, those stories." Minerva nodded, fighting down a blush. "Well, what about them?"

 "Do you think any of those stories have come close to the truth?" he asked thoughtfully. "After all, there are a great number of possibilities."

She uncomfortably shrugged her shoulders. "I'm surprised that anyone would see us as a couple."

 "Oh?" Albus raised an eyebrow at her. "What do you mean, Minerva?"

She fought the urge to squirm in her chair. "Well, it's just that--"

A knock at the door interrupted her. Albus reluctantly waved a hand to admit the visitor. "Good morning, Father! Oh, good morning, Professor."

 "Good morning, Tracey." Albus stood and hugged his daughter.

 "Yes, good morning, Miss Cooper," Minerva greeted the younger witch as she plopped into the chair Albus had just vacated. "Did you sleep well?"

She shrugged unconcernedly. "Not really, I was still wired from realizing I'm a witch after all. I've always wanted to try all those spells mentioned in the books."

 "Be prepared to work hard," Minerva lectured. "Learning magic is no easy task and your training, in particular, will be intense."

Tracey had sobered at Minerva's words. "I understand, Professor." A glint of amusement suddenly appeared in her eyes. "Will I get to visit Diagon Alley?"

Minerva smiled. "Yes, you'll get to visit Diagon Alley."

 "Yes!" Tracey punched the air with her fist.

Albus cleared his throat. His daughter looked up at him, a little sheepishly. "May I continue?"

Tracey dropped her hand to her lap. "Yes, Father."

He smiled before speaking. "As Minerva said, you'll need to go to Diagon Alley for supplies, but it will need to be done in such a way so as not to arouse suspicion."

Tracey frowned, confused. "Why?"

 "Because people will wonder why a full-grown witch needs school supplies," Albus explained, leaning back in his chair.

 "Oh," Tracey looked decidedly sheepish. "Good point."

 "Albus, she looks young enough to be a student," Minerva pointed out. She turned to Tracey. "I thought you were younger when I rescued you."

The young witch grinned. "It's not the first time."

Albus chuckled. "Well, that part is taken care of." he sobered slightly. "Is there someone you would like to go with you, Tracey?"

 "You, Father," she answered promptly, just as sober. "You've missed so many important events in my life. I want you to be here for this one."

Minerva felt tears pricking at her eyelids and blinked furiously to get rid of them.

Albus smiled at his daughter. "Of course I will go with you, Tracey. There are other factors that need to be considered as well."

Tracey nodded. "What are they?"

*          *          *

Tracey's eyes sparkled as she walked down Diagon Alley at her father's side. "This is so cool."

Albus chuckled at his daughter's response. "I'm glad to hear you say so."

She looked up at him with a smile. "Thanks for doing this with me, Professor."

They had agreed to keep her relationship to him a secret from a majority of the wizarding world. "You're welcome, Miss Cooper."

At Tracey's request, Minerva had agreed to accompany father and daughter to Diagon Alley and she watched as the pair dove into shop after shop, buying the items Tracey would need. Albus and Minerva had to virtually drag Tracey from Flourish and Blotts once they were done buying the young woman's books, otherwise she would have happily browsed for hours. Tracey wrinkled her nose at the smells of the apothecary shop, but the variety of interesting ingredients distracted her from the smells. They wandered through several other shops and bought a broom for Tracey before finally going into Ollivander's to buy Tracey a wand.

Tracey looked around with a combination of nervousness and anticipation. Boxes of wands lined the walls and shelves. A single spindly chair sat off to the side. Albus was the one who spoke, "Algernon?"

 "Hello." Algernon emerged from the back of the shop and nodded to the two professors. "Albus, Minerva." His gaze landed on Tracey. He stared at her for a long moment and she withstood it with only a little fidgeting. "What's your name?"

 "Tracey Cooper," she replied, lifting her chin slightly.

The pale eyes studied her further before Algernon addressed her again. "Which is your wand hand?"

 "My right," she replied, holding up her hand.

Algernon pulled out his tape measure and began measuring Tracey for her wand, going into his usual spiel about wands and wand cores and so on. Leaving the measuring tape to measure Tracey on it's own, Algernon began flitting around the shelves, pulling down boxes containing wands that might suit Tracey, still talking. Finally, he said, "That'll do," and the measuring tape obediently fell to the floor. After trying several wands, Algernon handed Tracey, "Oak, seven and three quarters, dragon heartstring."

When the young woman raised the golden-brown wand and waved it, swishing, through the air, a shower of red and gold sparks erupted out of the end. "Congratulations, Miss Cooper."

 "Thank you, Professor." Tracey smiled up at Minerva. The younger witch turned to her father and raised an eyebrow.

Albus glanced at Minerva, amused, and then Algernon, before returning his gaze to his daughter. "An excellent choice, Tracey."

She beamed. "Thank you, Father."

*          *          *

They ate lunch at a restaurant in Diagon Alley before returning to Hogwarts. All their packages from shopping had been shrunk and tucked into pockets. Albus and Minerva enlarged the packages for Tracey when they reached her rooms and left her to unpack them. Knowing Tracey, it would take her all afternoon to go through everything and put it away. "Would you like to play chess, Minerva?"

 "I'd love to, Albus."

He offered his arm and together they headed up to his study. They spent the afternoon playing chess and enjoying each other's company, something they rarely did anymore. On their way down to dinner, they stopped at Tracey's rooms. Albus knocked and they were answered by the sound of someone crying. They exchanged puzzled glances before Albus said the password. They entered with some trepidation, wondering why Tracey would be crying. "Tracey?"

 "Over here, Father," they turned to see Tracey curled up in an armchair, half of the packages from their shopping spree unpacked and the other half still wrapped. Tears were silently sliding down her face.

 "Tracey, what's wrong?" Albus waved his hand and the other armchair floated over in front of hers.

She sniffled as Albus sat and took her hands in his. "I miss my mother."

Albus opened his arms and the young witch, looking very young indeed, crawled into them. She quietly cried into her father's shoulder. Feeling as if she was intruding, Minerva left Tracey's rooms and went down to the Great Hall. When she arrived, the rest of the staff was already there and waiting.

 "Where are the Headmaster and Miss Cooper, Minerva?" Poppy asked as Minerva made her way to her seat.

 "They won't be joining us for dinner," Minerva told them. "They have to talk some things over."

*          *          *

Up in Tracey's room, Albus Dumbledore found himself quite at a loss. Tracey had been so happy when he and Minerva had left her early that afternoon. "What brought this on, Tracey?"

She sniffled and sat back, wiping her eyes with the backs of her hands. "I don't know. I was going through everything and thinking how lucky I was to have had you there with me for once. It reminded me of all the special moments of my life that you've missed." She looked up at him with wet eyes. "My first steps, my first bike ride, my first day of school, going to middle school, and then high school. Getting my driver's license." She smiled wryly. "Not that it's going to do me any good here in England. Going to prom."

He handed her his handkerchief. "Why did it make you cry?"

She mopped her face. "I wish Mom could have gone to Diagon Alley with us this morning. It would have been nice to have had both of you with me."

 "If I remember correctly, _you_ were the one who requested that Minerva join us," he pointed out gently as she blew her nose.

She nodded. "I know, but that's because I like her so much." She sighed and slumped in her seat. "Besides, she would have been lonely if we'd left her behind."

He raised an eyebrow. "Oh? What makes you say that?"

She grinned at him with mischief sparkling in her blue eyes. "That's my secret, Father."

He sighed and smiled, glad to see her cheering up. "Then I'll let you have it, then, Tracey. Are you hungry?"

 "Not really, no," she replied with a shake of her head. "I need to finish putting everything away, anyway."

 "Would you like some help?"

 "Yes, please."

 "Perhaps you'll be hungry by the time we finish, then."

 "Perhaps."

Without another word, father and daughter began unwrapping the packages that remained from their shopping trip.


	4. Training

Out of the Clear Blue Sky  
  
Chapter Four - Training  
  
A/N: Many thanks to Asfaloth, Isis Malfoy, Child-of-the-Dawn, feMHC, Filodea, and Rumblepurr for helping me out with ideas on this chapter.  
  
The next morning, Tracey was one of the first to arrive in the Great Hall for breakfast. She wore sky blue robes trimmed with silver embroidery and had pulled her hair back into a braid to keep it out of her way. The aquamarine pendant she'd bought during her shopping trip in Hogsmeade glittered at her neck. She sat down without a word and began serving herself. The British dishes made her pause for a moment, but she gamely tried a few. A tapping sound distracted her and, when she looked up, her eyes widened briefly. Professor McGonagall had just entered, leaning on a walking stick. Tracey watched without comment as the Deputy Headmistress made her way to the table and sat down, leaning her walking stick against the table.  
  
Tracey leaned across Albus' still-empty chair as Professor McGonagall began serving herself. "I thought you didn't need the walking stick anymore, Professor."  
  
Minerva smiled slightly at Tracey. "Two days of shopping was a bit too much for me, Miss Cooper. I'll be fine."  
  
Tracey looked sheepish. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have asked you to go to Diagon Alley with Father and I yesterday."  
  
Minerva shook her head. "It's not your fault, Miss Cooper."  
  
Tracey sighed and sat up straight as Albus entered the Great Hall. "Good morning, Tracey, Minerva."  
  
"Good morning, Father." Tracey smiled up at him before returning her attention to the plate of food in front of her.  
  
"Good morning, Professor." Professor McGonagall began eating as well.  
  
Albus began serving himself. "I trust you both slept well?"  
  
"Quite," Professor McGonagall replied succinctly.  
  
"Not really," Tracey answered with a shrug. "I'm really looking forward to learning magic."  
  
Albus smiled and patted her hand. "I'm glad to hear you say that."  
  
Tracey nodded and played with her food for a moment. "What's the date?"  
  
"Pardon?" Albus glanced down at his daughter.  
  
"What's today's date?" Tracey repeated. "I just realized that I have no clue what it is."  
  
Albus chuckled. "It is July 15th, Tracey."  
  
"Oh." She poked at her food for a little longer before pushing her plate away with a sigh. "When do I start reviewing?"  
  
"Today," Albus replied, pausing to fish something out of his pocket. "Here."  
  
She took the parchment he held out to her and perused it thoughtfully. "Wow. You were right, Professor McGonagall, this _is_ going to be intense."  
  
She was too busy studying her course schedule to notice the amused glances being exchanged all around the table. By mutual agreement, her need for training had been attributed to all the years she had spent in Muggle society and the muddling effect the Ageing Potion had had on her mind. She stuffed the parchment in her pocket and stood up. "Excuse me, I need to go get my books."  
  
She sketched a salute and disappeared through the doors of the Great Hall.  
  
* * *  
  
Tracey entered the Transfiguration classroom and sat down in one of the desks. "I'm here, Professor. What's first?"  
  
Minerva raised an eyebrow at her student. "Transfiguration is not an easy branch of magic to learn, Miss Cooper. It is highly complex and often difficult to perform. I expect you to work on the assignments you're given without complaint and with no messing about. Have I made myself clear?"  
  
Some of the eagerness had left Tracey's face and she nodded solemnly. "Yes, Professor."  
  
"Good." Minerva had decided to forgo demonstrating what Tracey would eventually be able to do and instead gave her notes to copy down.  
  
When she finished, Tracey set her quill down and shook her hand out. "I forgot how much that hurts."  
  
Minerva hid a smile as she reached into her pocket and pulled out a match. "Here, try to turn this into a needle."  
  
Tracey took the needle with some trepidation on her face and gamely did her best. By the end of the lesson, it had turned silvery with a tiny point on the end. Tracey sighed and returned the needle to Minerva. "Well, at least I did as well as Hermione."  
  
Minerva smiled. "Thank you, Miss Cooper. If this is an accurate measure of what you can do, you won't have much trouble mastering Transfiguration."  
  
"Do you think I might eventually try the Animagus transformation?" Tracey asked as she stuffed her books and papers into her bag.  
  
Minerva shrugged. "It's a little early to tell, so we'll just have to wait and see."  
  
Tracey nodded and hoisted her bag onto her shoulder. "Yes, Professor."  
  
Nodding to Minerva, she turned and left.  
  
* * *  
  
When Tracey arrived at the Charms classroom, Professor Flitwick was looking through a rather large book on his desk. "Ah, Miss Cooper. Good morning. How did your Transfiguration lesson go?"  
  
She shrugged as she took a seat at one of the desks. "Okay, I guess. I partly managed to do the transfiguration she set." She smiled sheepishly. "It's not very easy."  
  
"Good magic rarely is," Professor Flitwick replied, gazing earnestly at his student. "Few witches and wizards can manage the most complex charms. Most rarely even bother trying once they finish here."  
  
Tracey grinned. "Well, I'm ready to attempt whatever it is you have to teach me, Professor."  
  
Professor Flitwick waved his wand and the large book he'd been reading when Tracey arrived floated from his desk to the one in front of Tracey. "This is a basic guide to Latin. I'm not sure how much you will remember from your own days at Hogwarts, but this should help refresh your memory."  
  
"Thank you, Professor. How much do I need to read?" Tracey looked at him questioningly.  
  
"The first two chapters should be sufficient," Professor Flitwick replied.  
  
Tracey nodded, opened the book to the first page of the first chapter, and began to read. Some of it was familiar from the Spanish classes she'd taken in high school. She'd also done a bit of research on Latin for some of the fan fiction she'd written. As she pored over the book, Professor Flitwick wrote out lesson plans.  
  
"Okay, Miss Cooper, let's see how well you remember the material." Professor Flitwick's voice made her jump forty-five minutes later.  
  
After quizzing her on the material, the little Charms instructor sent her on her way with a merry wave of his hand.  
  
* * *  
  
Albus waited, with some anxiety, for Tracey to arrive in the Great Hall for lunch. He wanted to know how her morning had gone. Sitting to his right, Minerva was amused to note that Albus breathed a silent sigh of relief when Tracey finally appeared, looking thoughtful. The young woman walked over and plopped down into the seat on the other side of Albus' seat, announcing, "I'm hungry."  
  
Albus chuckled and watched as she began piling food onto her plate. "I'm not surprised. You didn't eat much at breakfast."  
  
Tracey slid a glare his way before beginning to eat. "How'd your classes go, Miss Cooper?"  
  
Tracey swallowed and turned to Poppy. "They went fine. I'm hoping everything will come back to me as time passes."  
  
"I don't see why it shouldn't," Xiomara volunteered from where she sat beside Poppy.  
  
Tracey gave a non-committal shrug before turning back to her food. When she finished, Tracey followed Xiomara out of the Great Hall. It was time for her flying lesson. "She looks a little worried, Albus."  
  
He turned to his Deputy. "She told me that she's afraid of heights, Minerva."  
  
"Oh." Finished, Minerva pushed her plate away. Albus was there to pull her chair out for her and help her stand up. "Thank you, Albus."  
  
"You're welcome, Minerva."  
  
* * *  
  
"How much flying have you done recently, Miss Cooper?" Madam Hooch asked Tracey as they walked to the broomshed.  
  
"Not much," Tracey admitted, trying to hide her sudden attack of nerves at the thought of flying. "I, um, well, I--"  
  
"What is it?" Madam Hooch prodded.  
  
"I'm not too fond of heights," Tracey admitted, feeling her cheeks flush.  
  
Madam Hooch smiled. "Nothing to be ashamed of, Miss Cooper. The trick is to face your fears head-on."  
  
Tracey sighed. "Somehow, I knew you were going to say that."  
  
Madam Hooch laughed as she unlocked the broomshed. "It's the truth, Miss Cooper. Now, let's see, which broom?"  
  
Tracey shrugged. "I don't know much about brooms, except that the latest model is the Firebolt."  
  
Madam Hooch threw her an odd look before choosing a broom. "Here we are. One of our newer brooms. You should be able to handle it."  
  
"Thanks." Tracey took the broom and preceded Madam Hooch out of the broomshed.  
  
By the end of the lesson, Tracey had managed to fly briefly, but the highest she'd flown had been ten feet. "Miss Cooper, you need to go higher, but we'll stop for the day."  
  
"Thank you, Madam Hooch," Tracey dismounted the broom with a sigh of relief. "I'll work at it, but, frankly, I'm petrified of heights."  
  
Madam Hooch nodded as they walked to the broomshed. "Don't worry, we'll have you flying like a pro in no time."  
  
Tracey nodded and, once the broom had been locked in the broomshed, they headed up to the castle.  
  
* * *  
  
Tracey entered the dungeons with some trepidation. From what she'd read in the Harry Potter books, Snape wasn't a pleasant teacher. However, she acknowledged to herself that it was partly because Snape hadn't liked James and didn't like Harry. When she entered the classroom, she didn't see Snape, but she _did_ find a student cauldron waiting near the front of the room. She pulled out her potions kit and sat down. After a few minutes, Snape entered, his black cloak billowing behind him. Without acknowledging her presence, he walked to the front of the room.  
  
A wave of his wand and the instructions for the potion she would be making appeared on the board. "It will take you the whole time period allotted for you to make this potion, Miss Cooper," he told her silkily. "I suggest you don't waste any time."  
  
"Yes, Sir." Tracey sketched a salute and carefully read the instructions through before beginning.  
  
"Do not expect me to be lenient because of whom your father is, Miss Cooper," Snape warned without raising his voice.  
  
"Wouldn't dream of it," she answered saucily, measuring out ingredients. "I hated teachers who favored any student over another."  
  
His eyes narrowed. "Indeed."  
  
She carefully began to mix the ingredients together. "Or teachers who were unduly harsh on a student."  
  
His black eyes were mere slits. "Who have you been talking to, Miss Cooper?"  
  
She lifted innocent eyes to meet his. "No one, Professor."  
  
His eyes bored into hers, but she didn't flinch. Finally, he snapped, "Carry on with your potion," and sat down at his desk to write lesson plans for the upcoming school year.  
  
Tracey hid a smile and did just that, occasionally glancing up at the board to make sure she was following the instructions correctly. Once she had mixed all the ingredients together, a prod of her wand put out the fire and she put away her unused ingredients while she waited for the potion to cool down a bit. "Professor?"  
  
Without a word, Snape stood and swept forward to examine her potion. After a few moments, he nodded to her. "You may go."  
  
"Thanks, Professor!" she chirped before picking up her bag and leaving the room, almost skipping with glee.  
  
* * *  
  
When Tracey arrived for dinner that night, she looked a little exhausted, but cheerful. "How did your lessons go this afternoon, Tracey?"  
  
"Fine, Father," Tracey replied with a smile, serving up heaping portions for herself. "I think I did the potion Professor Snape assigned me correctly. He didn't say anything."  
  
"Then you did it correctly," Minerva inserted. "If you'd done something wrong, Severus would have pointed it out."  
  
Tracey giggled and began to eat. Albus smiled at Minerva as well. A warm, tingly feeling appeared in the pit of her stomach at the sight of Albus' smile so she quickly turned her attention to her own dinner. When she finished eating, she pushed her chair back and stood up. Albus nodded to her as she left, but he was deep in conversation with Tracey and showed no inclination of leaving any time soon. Sighing, Minerva headed up to her rooms to read a book.  
  
* * *  
  
Tracey's training continued. She spent the mornings and early afternoons with one professor or another, doing her best to learn everything as quickly as she could. She was quite bright and picked up on things quickly. Late afternoons and early evenings were dedicated to doing any homework one of the professors had assigned and reading all the books she could get her hands on. She usually spent her weekends with her father in some form or another, even if it was just going for a walk around the grounds as they talked. Tracey told him about Sandra and he told her about the hundred or so years that had passed since she and her mother had disappeared. Minerva couldn't understand why, but she felt left out. Occasionally, they would ask her to join them, but she felt too much like a third wheel when she did to join them to do so often.  
  
"Minerva? Min?" Minerva shook herself and focused on the other three women in the room.  
  
"I'm sorry, Poppy, what were you saying?" Minerva asked.  
  
"I asked if you wanted another cup of tea," the medi-witch replied.  
  
"No, thank you." Minerva's smile was half-hearted and faded quickly.  
  
The other three witches exchanged glances. "Are you feeling all right, Minerva?"  
  
"Fine, Sylvia," Minerva answered with false cheerfulness. "Why wouldn't I be?"  
  
"You've been awfully quiet and moody," Xiomara pointed out. "You hardly ever leave your rooms except for meals and training sessions with Tracey--"  
  
"And tea with you three," Minerva reminded them. "And meetings with Albus."  
  
"That's true," Xiomara conceded, "but the fact remains that you've become a virtual hermit. What happened to your weekly chess games with the Headmaster?"  
  
"He's been so distracted that I win more quickly and more often than usual," Minerva replied with a shrug.  
  
"Distracted?" Poppy asked, puzzled. "With what?"  
  
Minerva didn't reply, choosing to drain her cup of tea instead. "Excuse me, I have things to do."  
  
As she left Sylvia's rooms, Poppy stood and followed her. "Minerva, wait."  
  
Minerva sighed and turned. "Yes, Poppy?"  
  
"There's something you're not telling us," Poppy replied, falling into step with the black-haired witch. "What is it?"  
  
"There's a reason I'm not telling you, Poppy," Minerva answered stiffly.  
  
"C'mon, Minerva, you know you can tell me," Poppy coaxed.  
  
"Poppy, I'm not going to tell anyone," Minerva was finding it difficult to keep her temper.  
  
"You should at least tell the headmaster," Poppy told her.  
  
"No!" Albus was the last person she wanted to talk to about it. "I'm not talking to anyone at all about it!"  
  
"Okay, okay." Poppy held up her hands in surrender. "Just don't let it eat you up inside, all right?"  
  
Minerva nodded. "I'll be fine, Poppy, don't worry about me."  
  
"Right." Poppy nodded skeptically and disappeared down a corridor.  
  
Minerva blew out a frustrated sigh and continued to her rooms.  
  
* * *  
  
Tracey continued to improve, quickly rising to the O.W.L. level. Albus was justly proud of his daughter's accomplishments. She had quickly proven to be quite adept at Transfiguration and Potions. The former made Minerva proud and the latter galled Severus. He rarely found anything to criticize about her work.  
  
One afternoon in August, a tall, stately woman with smooth, toffee-colored skin, clear gray eyes, and hair so dark a red it was almost brown arrived wearing a long dark green traveling cloak and carrying a black carpetbag. Minerva smiled when she saw the woman. "Sarai, good morning."  
  
The woman smiled and hugged Minerva. "Hello, Aunt Min, how are you?"  
  
"I'm fine," Minerva assured the younger woman, who couldn't have been much older than Severus. "Poppy insists I take things easy, though."  
  
"I don't blame her," Sarai replied, picking up her carpetbag. "Four Stunners, right to the chest..." she trailed off and shook her head.  
  
"Now don't you start," Minerva returned, taking the carpetbag from her niece. "I get enough worrying from Albus, Poppy, Xiomara, and Sylvia. And Tracey."  
  
The gray eyes narrowed slightly as she removed her cloak to reveal deep burgundy robes. "Who's Tracey?"  
  
Minerva held a finger to her lips. "Not here, Sarai. Come, I'll show you to your rooms."  
  
The two women started up the stairs. "It's good to be back. I've missed Hogwarts."  
  
"I'm surprised you didn't apply for a position before now."  
  
A look of deep sadness crossed the younger witch's face. "Yes, well, I couldn't just leave Reuben alone."  
  
Minerva stopped and pulled Sarai into a comforting hug. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that."  
  
Sarai returned the embrace. "It's all right, Aunt Min. He's not in pain anymore."  
  
Minerva nodded and held her niece at arm's length. "He wouldn't want you to continue grieving, Sarai. You still have Fiona and Sean to think of. Plus, your mother and I will always be available."  
  
Sarai nodded and blew her nose with a handkerchief she pulled out of her pocket. "I know, Aunt Min. Thank you."  
  
"You're welcome, Sarai," Minerva squeezed Sarai's shoulders before stooping to pick up the carpetbag. "Come on."  
  
Together, the two proceeded up to Sarai's rooms.  
  
* * *  
  
Tracey stared when Sarai entered the Great Hall for dinner that evening. She moved with the same catlike grace as Professor McGonagall did, but she made it appear stately and elegant. As the new witch surveyed the gathered professors, Tracey realized she was staring and dropped her gaze to her plate. Once everyone was seated, Albus cleared his throat and stood up. "I would like to introduce the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor: Sarai McBride."  
  
He proceeded to introduce her to the rest of the staff, some of whom she seemed to know already. She greeted Snape politely enough, but Tracey thought she detected a slight frostiness in her voice that hadn't been there before. Last of all, Albus introduced Professor McBride to Tracey. "My daughter, Tracey Cooper."  
  
"Hello, Miss Cooper." Professor McBride shook Tracey's hand. "I'm pleased to meet you."  
  
"I'm pleased to meet you, too, Professor," Tracey replied, gazing up at the new professor thoughtfully. "I hope you're better than the last Defense Against the Dark Arts professor."  
  
"Well, it won't be too hard, from what I've heard," Professor McBride answered with a wink and a wry smile.  
  
"Sarai," Professor McGonagall scolded, though her lips twitched as if she was fighting a smile.  
  
Professor McBride returned to her seat beside the Deputy Headmistress. "Most of the stories I heard about what happened came to me through Fiona and Sean." She glanced at the older witch, amused. "Every other sentence was full of praise for their great-aunt."  
  
A pink tinge appeared in Professor McGonagall's thin cheeks and she quickly began eating. Albus chuckled at his Deputy's discomfort and she slid a glare his way. Tracey stifled a giggle and decided she'd better start eating, too.  
  
Snape spoke up from where he sat beside Professor McBride. "You are referring to Fiona and Sean McBride, correct?"  
  
She swallowed and nodded. "Yes, Severus, I am. They are my children."  
  
Snape glanced at Professor McGonagall. "Fascinating."  
  
Tracey raised an auburn eyebrow and leaned back in her seat to address Snape. "Have you heard of a Muggle TV series called 'Star Trek', Professor Snape?" He did not deign to reply, choosing to begin eating instead. Tracey persisted. "Sometimes you remind me of Spock."  
  
The Muggle Studies professor, Hector Matteson, hastily smothered his laughter in his napkin, but the rest of the staff exchanged puzzled glances. Madam Hooch leaned forward so she could look past Professor Sprout at Tracey. "What's that mean, Miss Cooper?"  
  
Tracey smiled serenely. "He was a character who maintained rigid control over his emotions and his favorite remark was 'Fascinating.'" She smiled as signs of amusement appeared all around the staff table. Snape scowled down at his plate, but chose not to comment.  
  
About halfway through the meal, an eagle owl swooped into the hall and dropped a parchment scroll onto the table in front of Albus. He stared at it for a moment before pulling out his wand and pointing it at the scroll. The seal broke and the scroll unrolled itself. Tracey and Minerva leaned forward to read the note written on the parchment over Albus' shoulders. A shiver of fear went down Tracey's spine at the message she read:  
  
_51 years ago, you killed Grindelwald. You shall not live to see the 52nd._ 


	5. Sorting

Out of the Clear Blue Sky 

**Chapter Five – Sorting**

A/N: The plot thickens! Oh, my. Anyway, my thanks to Child-of-the-Dawn, Asfaloth, Filodea, feMHC, Isis Malfoy, and Minerva of Tortall for cheering me on and encouraging me. Without their help, I wouldn't have gotten this far.

The note burst into flames, leaving a pile of ashes in front of Albus' plate. He raised a silver eyebrow. "Interesting."

Tracey straightened and stared up at him, surprised by his relative calm. On his other side, Minerva straightened as well, but she was not surprised. She merely gazed steadily at Albus until he looked at her. "Albus, you can't afford to take this lightly. Not with everything else that is going on."

He nodded. "I am not taking this lightly, Minerva, trust me."

She sighed and turned back to her meal. She _did_ trust him, and that was her problem.

Not long afterwards, the staff began leaving, one by one, until Albus, Minerva, Tracey, and Sarai were the only ones left. "Father?"

Albus looked at his daughter calmly. "Yes, Tracey?"

 "That isn't the first threatening note you've received, is it?" Tracey asked quietly, looking very young to Minerva.

He sighed and shook his head. "No, and no one has followed through on any of the previous notes."

 "That doesn't mean this one won't be an exception," Minerva lectured, eyeing the ashes with distaste.

He turned to Minerva and she froze as his bright blue gaze locked with, and held, her dark green one. "I have no intention of dropping dead within the next year, Minerva."

 "That doesn't mean whoever wrote the note won't try to help you along, Uncle," Sarai volunteered quietly.

 "Uncle?" Tracey asked, confused. "Am I missing something here?"

Sarai smiled across the other two at Tracey. "My mother's name is Artemis Kettleburn. She's older than Aunt Min by four years."

 "That clears up why you call Professor McGonagall your aunt, but what about Father?" Tracey asked, staring intently at the newest member of the staff.

Minerva sighed and picked up the explanation. "Father and Albus met while they both attended Hogwarts. They became friends and Albus agreed to be the godfather to my siblings and I."

Tracey nodded. "How many brothers and sisters do you have, Professor?"

 "I have two brothers and two sisters," Minerva replied. "Sarai has three brothers and two sisters."

 "Oh." Tracey looked back down at her plate. She pushed her food around with her fork for a few moments before sighing and pushing the plate away. "I might as well go to my rooms. I haven't eaten a bite since the note came. Goodnight."

She stood and left. For some reason, Albus did not hurry to escort her. "Albus?"

His face was grave when he looked down at his Deputy. "I'm fine, Minerva."

She raised a skeptical eyebrow. "I don't believe you."

Neither noticed that Sarai had slipped away.

He chuckled without mirth. "You know me far too well, Minerva."

She shrugged and sipped at her pumpkin juice. "Only because I've known you for as long as I can remember."

He covered the hand on the arm of her chair with his own. "You're holding something back, Minerva. What is it?"

She withdrew her hand and stood up. "It's late, we should--"

 "Minerva," his quiet voice stopped her in her tracks. "You're avoiding the question. Why?"

 "I can't tell you, Albus," she answered softly, her back to him. "Good night."

 "Good night."

*          *            *

Tracey continued to improve, but not as quickly as before. One only had to know of her relationship to the headmaster to understand why. Minerva was similarly distracted, although years of experience helped her to concentrate on the tasks at hand. Albus was not aware that his staff had mutually agreed to keep an eye out for possible attacks upon him. He only knew that he was rarely alone anymore. If Tracey wasn't with him, some member of the staff or another was. Minerva, Sarai, and Severus were his most constant companions after Tracey, although the others did their part.

At dinner one night, Sarai asked the question that Tracey had been asked many times already: "Miss Cooper, what House were you in?"

Tracey sighed. "I still can't remember. I'm working on it, though."

Sarai nodded and went back to her meal.

 "I would imagine you were a Gryffindor like your father," Severus commented snidely.

 "Professor?" He didn't look up, but his eyes slid her direction. "Stuff it."

Eyebrows rose up and down the table. That was the rudest Tracey had been to Severus ever since she'd arrived the month before. She calmly resumed eating. Severus showed no signs of having heard Tracey. Minerva and Sarai exchanged significant looks. Albus smiled behind his beard and continued to eat.

*          *            *

Tracey knew the basics of regular chess, but had never learned the finer points of the game. Recently, however, she'd decided it was time to learn and had spent many evenings either watching Minerva and Albus play or playing against one or the other. Tonight, she'd declined to play, preferring to brood as the other two played. Minerva often found the younger witch's presence distracting because she tended to chatter, but not tonight. She'd rarely said a word since she'd come in and sat down.

After Minerva's queen had dragged Albus' remaining bishop off the board, Albus spoke. "Tracey, is something wrong?"

She sighed and shook her head. "No, Father." She drummed her fingers on the arm of her chair, making it difficult for Minerva to concentrate. Minerva was on the verge of asking her to stop when she sat up and spoke again. "Actually, yes."

Albus glanced at Minerva, amused, before turning to Tracey. "And what _is_ wrong, Tracey?"

 "I can't keep lying about not knowing which House I was in, Father," Tracey told him, playing with a lock of auburn hair. "The others will suspect something if I don't have an answer for them soon."

Albus leaned back in his chair as Minerva deliberated on her next move. "So, what do you propose to do, Tracey?"

Blue eyes met blue. "Let me put on the Sorting Hat, Father. I know everyone can't see me be Sorted, but at least you and Professor McGonagall can."

Albus sighed. "Tracey, are you sure of this? You know the song the Sorting Hat sang last year."

Tracey nodded. "Father, I _should_ have been Sorted years ago, but I wasn't. The staff, and students, will expect me to eventually remember. It is necessary."

Albus looked at his Deputy. "Minerva, a Sorting requires two witnesses."

She nodded in response to the unasked question. "I will act as the second witness."

 "Very well." Albus led them into his office. A wave of his wand and a familiar stool appeared in front of his desk. "Tracey, have a seat." She sat, still playing with the lock of auburn hair. "Minerva?"

She pulled her wand from her pocket and transfigured the pale blue robes Tracey was wearing into the robes first year students typically wore before they were Sorted. Albus moved to stand in front of Tracey, holding the Sorting Hat in both hands. After a few moments of silence, the Sorting Hat spoke:

_Usually, I Sort students but once a year

To every rule, there is an exception

Belated though this Sorting may be,

I shall place you in the House best for you

Whether it shall be

Courageous, noble Gryffindor,

Wise, intelligent Ravenclaw,

Ambitious, cunning Slytherin,

Or patient, loyal Hufflepuff,

Is to be determined by you._

Minerva could only watch as Albus' eyes locked with his daughter's. "Are you ready, Tracey?"

 "Ready, Father," Tracey replied.

Albus carefully placed the hat on his daughter's head. After a few minutes' worth of waiting that seemed to last an eternity, the Sorting Hat said one word: "Gryffindor."

Tears of joy were spilling down Tracey's cheeks when Albus removed the hat. "Oh, Father, I hoped it would be Gryffindor."

Albus smiled and returned his daughter's hug, tears trickling down his face and into his beard. "Congratulations, Tracey."

 "Thank you, Father." Tracey was smiling in spite of her tears when she pulled away, hardly aware that Minerva had transfigured her robes back to what they had been. Tracey turned to the Deputy Headmistress. "Thank you, too, Professor."

 "Why?" Minerva asked, startled.

 "Just for being here," Tracey replied, and then hugged Minerva.

After a few shocked moments, Minerva returned the hug, fighting back the tears that suddenly threatened to fall down her cheeks. In less than two months, the young woman had managed to worm her way into Minerva's heart as the daughter she'd never had. "You're welcome, Miss Cooper."

Tracey pulled away and, favoring both with a last dazzling smile, she left for her rooms. "She loves you like a mother, Minerva."

Minerva turned away from him, trying desperately to control her emotions. Finally, she managed to speak. "She already has a mother, Albus."

 "Not in this universe, Minerva." She shivered when his hand touched her shoulder, but did not turn around.

 "It's late, I must go." She hurried for the door.

 "Minerva." His quiet voice stopped her once more. He moved in front of her and tilted her chin up so his blue eyes bored into her green ones. "Why are you avoiding me?"

She struggled to find her voice. "I--I really must go, Albus."  
"Very well." He stepped aside. Breathing a sigh of relief, she hurried from his office. Albus looked at the red and gold bird beside his office door once it had closed. "I don't think I will ever understand women, Fawkes."

He crooned a low note as the Headmaster stroked his crest. The portraits of past Headmistresses on the walls giggled while the Headmasters nodded their agreement.

*          *            *

About a week before the students were due to arrive, Poppy again brought up the subject of Tracey's House. "Miss Cooper, have you remembered which House you were in yet?"

Tracey pretended to think for a moment, and then realization dawned. "Yes, I have actually."

She and Poppy stared at each other, determined not to give in. Sylvia decided the question when she asked, "And? Which House?"

Tracey smiled. "Gryffindor."

 "Just as I thought," Severus murmured before taking a sip of his pumpkin juice. No sooner had he set it on the table than it rose into the air and dumped the rest of the juice on Severus' head.

Everyone stared at him, and then looked at Tracey. She was calmly eating, but the corners of her mouth kept twitching as if she was fighting back a smile. One by one, others fought back smiles of their own. Xiomara was the only one who didn't bother to hide her amusement, even as Severus rose and made as dignified an exit as he could while pumpkin juice was dripping off the end of his rather large nose. Xiomara followed shortly, presumably to help Severus clean up. Minerva shook her head and continued to eat.

*          *            *

As September first drew near, Tracey behaved rather oddly. She seemed to be of two minds about it. She both wanted it to arrive and dreaded its arrival. Albus would have appreciated his deputy's help in handling his daughter, but she kept her distance. It was as if she didn't _want_ to be a mother to Tracey. He sighed and shook his head.

When September first arrived, all of the teachers put on their finest robes and generally looked their best. Tracey spent hours preparing for the Feast, with some help from Minerva. "You must make every effort to look older, Miss Cooper, not younger."

Tracey sighed and rolled her eyes. "I know, Professor. Whenever I went shopping for clothes in the other universe, I spent ages finding clothes that would fit properly and not make me look like a little kid." She turned back to her reflection in the mirror. "There are times when I wouldn't mind being a little taller." She stood on tiptoe. "At least five feet."

Minerva placed her hands on the younger woman's shoulders and exerted enough pressure to make her stand flat-footed. "Unfortunately, you aren't, so make do with what you have."

Tracey rolled her eyes and let Minerva help her into her dress. "You sound like my mother." Minerva paused for a moment in the act of zipping up Tracey's dress, but the smaller woman didn't notice it. "She always told me that being short gave me an advantage with the men."

 "Oh?" Minerva raised an eyebrow as Tracey smoothed the beige dress over her hips. "And what advantage would that be?"

Tracey's blue eyes were twinkling impishly as Minerva helped her slip on the deep crimson outer robe she'd chosen for the occasion, gold embroidery glinting at the ends of her sleeves and along the hem. "That I can marry a short man or a tall man."

Minerva's eyebrow rose higher. "And how is this an advantage?"

Tracey adjusted the outer robe one last time and turned to Minerva. "Men don't like having a woman tower over them, so short men tend to marry short women. Whereas tall men don't mind a woman who's shorter than them, so they can marry a short woman _or_ a tall woman."

Minerva smiled and watched as Tracey slipped her feet into a pair of beige pumps. "That's one way of looking at the situation."

Tracey laughed. "I suppose. She also used to say that good things came in small packages."

 "Indeed?" Minerva studied the young woman closely as Tracey twirled around the room a few times to make her dress and outer robe flare out.

 "Yeah," Tracey's eyes were dancing with mirth when she stopped and looked up at Minerva, "like dynamite and engagement rings."

 "What's dynamite?" Minerva asked as Tracey sat down at her vanity.

 "It's a Muggle invention that blows things up," Tracey explained as Minerva began brushing the younger woman's hair.

 "Oh." Minerva set the brush aside and began to style the thick auburn locks.

*          *            *

Harry was silent during the train ride up to Hogwarts. His summer hadn't been that great, but it hadn't been too bad, either. He'd spent the first four weeks at the Dursleys, and then gone to the Burrow in time for his birthday. He'd spent most of his time brooding, but Ginny usually managed to pull him out of his funk. Ron and Hermione had tried, but it was Ginny who succeeded. Harry sighed and slumped in his seat.

 "Harry? Are you all right?" Ginny's voice drew him from his thoughts.

 "Yeah, I'm fine," he replied, forcing a smile.

The others looked at him skeptically, but knew better than to pressure him.

Harry leaned forward and pressed his face to the window to try to catch a glimpse of Hogwarts castle. He didn't really expect to, but it was nice to try. When the Hogwarts Express pulled into the Hogsmeade station, Harry was the first to climb off. He took deep breathes of the moist night air.

 "Firs' years, this way! Firs' years!" Harry grinned as he looked around.

Towering above the students was, "Hagrid!"

 "Hello, Harry!" Hagrid called back. "You three all righ'?"

Harry just waved and turned to join the others. In no time at all, they were seated in a carriage and trundling up to the castle. When the carriage came to a stop at the foot of the front steps, Harry was the first to jump out. He turned to help Ginny, who was then followed by Ron. In his turn, Ron turned back to help Hermione out. The four of them climbed the stone steps together, but Ron and Hermione lingered in the entrance hall to make sure no one was causing problems. Harry and Ginny continued into the Great Hall and found four seats at the Gryffindor table.

Harry looked up at the High Table and blinked. There were two new faces. The one sitting beside McGonagall's empty chair was a tall, slender witch in wine-red robes with toffee-colored skin and dark red hair that was almost brown. The other one was sitting on Dumbledore's other side, speaking quietly with him. She had auburn hair pulled back into a complicated-looking twist, and was wearing deep crimson robes over a beige dress. "Why are there two new staff members?"

 "I have no idea," Ginny replied as Ron and Hermione sat down.

 "What do you have no idea about, Ginny?" Ron asked, puzzled.

Hermione had already looked up at the High Table. "There're _two_ new staff members, Ron."

Ron followed Hermione's gaze. "I wonder why."

They weren't the only ones wondering about the two new additions to the teaching staff. All over the Great Hall, students were murmuring to each other and asking if anyone had heard of a new subject being offered. The murmurs died away when the doors opened and McGonagall entered, wearing her usual emerald green robes and leading the first years. They lined up in front of the High Table, facing their fellow students, and McGonagall placed the Sorting Hat on a stool in front of them.

Once all the students had been Sorted and McGonagall had taken away the Sorting Hat, Dumbledore stood up to address the students. "Welcome to Hogwarts, first years, and welcome back to the rest of you. There is a time for speeches to be made, but not just yet. Tuck in!"

The food appeared and all the students began to eat. Harry kept silent all through the meal, occasionally glancing up at the High Table. There was something about the auburn-haired witch that was awfully familiar. She talked cheerfully with Dumbledore on one side and Flitwick on the other. The other new professor talked with McGonagall, but pretty much ignored Snape, who sat on her other side. Shaking his head, Harry turned his attention to the selection of desserts that had appeared.

Finally, the last of the food disappeared from the platters, leaving the dishes sparkling. Dumbledore got to his feet once more to address the students. "I have a few announcements to make before we toddle off to bed." He cleared his throat. "First year students should note that the forest at the edge of the grounds is forbidden to all students, and some of our older students would do well to remember themselves." Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny all exchanged grins. "Mr. Filch, our caretaker, has asked me to remind you that magic is not permitted in the corridors between classes, and neither are a number of other items which can be found on a list posted on Mr. Filch's office door. We have two new staff members this year. Professor McBride will be teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts--" the witch sitting beside McGonagall stood and dipped her head regally to the polite smattering of applause, "--and Professor Cooper will be assisting Professor McGonagall with Transfiguration--" more polite applause as the other witch stood to acknowledge the applause. Harry was surprised at how short she was. She couldn't possibly be much taller than either of the Creevy brothers. "And finally, all students who wish to try out for their House teams will need to speak with Madam Hooch. Off to bed with you now."

There was a murmur of voices as students got to their feet and started to leave the Great Hall. A gasp stopped everyone in their tracks and all eyes turned to the front of the room. Dumbledore had collapsed into a heap of midnight blue robes in front of his chair. This started a mass panic, but a few bangs from McGonagall's wand restored order. "Prefects, please escort your fellow students to their dormitories. I expect the Head Boy and Girl to see to it that _all_ students reach their dormitories. Go."

The students filed out of the Great Hall. Harry glanced back over his shoulder as he reached the doors and saw Madam Pomfrey tending to Dumbledore. Feeling as if his stomach was full of lead instead of food, Harry allowed himself to be carried along by the tide of students up to Gryffindor Tower.


	6. Potions, Occlumency, & Transfiguration

Out of the Clear Blue Sky Chapter Six – Potions, Occlumency, & Transfiguration 

A/N: I know, I'm evil. I had a bit of writer's block with this chapter, but it's obviously been taken care of. Enjoy.

Pleasantly full from dinner, Tracey watched as the students began to leave. Despite the lethargy that weighed her limbs down, her reflexes were still sharp enough to catch Albus when he collapsed, preventing him from hitting his head on the hard stone floor. She hardly heard Professor McGonagall sending the students off to bed as she cradled her father's head in her lap, studying his unconscious face anxiously. Poppy was at Albus' side in seconds, casting a Diagnosis Spell. The other staff members kept a respectful distance. When the last students had left the Great Hall, Professor McGonagall knelt opposite Poppy, dark eyes anxious. "Well, Poppy?"

 "He's not dead, Minerva," Poppy told the gathered staff. A unanimous sigh of relief ruffled Tracey's hair. "I can't quite figure out what's wrong, though. Not a heart attack or a stroke, nor anything along those lines."

Tracey smoothed a stray lock of silver hair back from her father's lined forehead. "What about any poisons?"

Poppy sighed. "That's not my specialty." She looked up at the professors hovering nearby. "Severus?"

The sallow-skinned Potions Master stepped forward and waved his wand over the headmaster in a figure-eight pattern. A pale magenta glow suffused the aged body for a moment and Snape nodded to himself. "It's the Draught of the Living Death."

Looks were exchanged all around. "Who would be able to slip something like that into his goblet, though?"

 "Is there an antidote?" Tracey asked softly, stroking Albus' hair.

 "It will take me some time to brew it, but yes, there is one," Snape confirmed.

Her eyes were steely when she looked up at him. "I'll help you make it, Professor."

Snape stared down at her. There was no sign of joking or laughter in her eyes, just steely resolve. "We needed to review the antidote anyway, Miss Cooper."

She smiled tightly and helped Minerva lift the headmaster onto the floating stretcher Poppy had conjured up. "Yes, Professor."

*          *            *

The hospital wing was dim when a sleek silver tabby cat slipped through the door later that night. The cat slunk down the wing to the faculty ward and slipped inside. She jumped up onto a chair beside the only occupied bed, and then onto the bed itself. The cat stared intently at the unconscious wizard's face before curling up beside him. When Poppy slipped in to check on the wizard, she wasn't surprised to see the cat. She merely stroked the cat a few times before returning to her rooms. When a distant clock struck three, the cat stood, stretched, and left the hospital wing.

*          *            *

Two hours later found Tracey already in the dungeons, studying the sheet of instructions she'd found waiting for her. At the end was a note from Snape: _Miss Cooper, I will be brewing a batch of this myself, just as a precautionary measure. You have your father's gift for potions, as well as his gift for transfiguration. Good luck._

Taking a deep breath, Tracey began gathering all the ingredients she would need, determined to brew the antidote correctly. Once she'd gathered all of her ingredients, she began to prepare them, one by one. Finally, everything ready, she began to brew the potion. She followed each step carefully and meticulously, well aware that a slightest mistake could ruin the whole potion.

At long last, the only step that remained was to let the potion stew for several hours. Wiping the sweat from her forehead, she cast a charm to make the fire continue to burn at a steady heat for a certain length of time, and left the dungeons.

She arrived just as Professor McGonagall was tapping her glass with her spoon for silence. "Your attention, please?" Once all the students were silent, she spoke, "As you have probably guessed by now, Professor Dumbledore is ill. Efforts are being made to revive him even now. However, classes _will_ begin today." The students groaned and Tracey hid a smile. "The only visitors allowed to see the Headmaster are the staff. Thank you." McGonagall sat down and the students returned to their breakfasts.

Tracey made her way to the High Table and sank into her seat with a heavy sigh. "Well, Miss Cooper?"

Tracey looked across her father's empty seat into the worried eyes of the Deputy Headmistress. "The antidote is stewing right now, Professor," the older woman breathed a sigh of relief, "we should be able to administer it by lunchtime at the latest."

 "Thank you, Miss Cooper." Professor McGonagall turned to her breakfast and began to eat. Taking her cue, Tracey began to eat as well. There wasn't much else they could do at the moment.

*          *            *

Minerva had to make a conscious effort to focus on teaching her classes that morning. Luckily, she hadn't planned much for the day, just quizzes for the older students to determine how much they had retained and small exercises for the younger students that served the same purpose. Tracey sat in on all of the classes, listening and watching patiently from a seat in the corner, much as Dolores had the previous year. Unlike Dolores, however, Tracey remained quiet and absorbed everything without a word. Half an hour before lunch, the young woman left the room and Minerva could only guess that she had gone down to the dungeons to check on the antidote.

When the bell finally rang, most of the students headed for the Great Hall, but three remained. "Professor?"

 "Yes, Mr. Potter?" she asked, meeting his bright green eyes with her dark ones.

 "Professor Dumbledore _will_ be all right, won't he?" Harry asked, a note of desperation in his voice.

Minerva studied him for a moment, and then both his companions, prefect badges gleaming scarlet and gold. "Yes, Mr. Potter, he will be fine. Professor Cooper has been working on a potion that will revive him."

Hermione frowned. "I thought her specialty was Transfiguration, Professor."

 "A witch can excel in more than one field, Miss Granger," Minerva informed the girl. "Now, go to lunch, all three of you."

Reluctantly, they preceded the Transfiguration professor from the room. Minerva waited until they had turned the corner before turning and heading straight for the hospital wing, emerald green robes billowing behind her. When she reached the hospital wing, the door to the faculty ward was open and she could hear voices. When she entered, she found Poppy, Severus, Sarai, and Tracey gathered around Albus' bed. "Good, we're all here, then. Tracey?"

Swallowing hard, the young woman stepped forward and, while Poppy tilted Albus' head back, Tracey administered three drops of the potion. After a few tense moments that seemed to last for hours, Albus stirred. "Tracey? Minerva?"

 "I'm here, Father." Tracey caught one of his hands.

 "And me, Albus," Minerva added, gripping his other hand. None of the three noticed when Poppy shepherded the other two from the room. "You gave us quite a scare."

 "What happened?" he asked, looking from one concerned face to the other. "Wasn't I in the Great Hall?"

 "You collapsed right after you'd sent the students off to bed," Minerva told him, unwilling to release his hand. "Thanks to Miss Cooper's fast reflexes, you didn't hit your head when you fell."

Albus turned his head on the pillow to smile at his daughter, who had tears of relief streaming down her cheeks. "Thank you, Tracey."

 "You're welcome, Father," she replied, freeing one of her hands to pull a handkerchief out of her pocket.

As she mopped her face, Minerva continued. "You'd been poisoned with the Draught of Living Death. Miss Cooper insisted on brewing the antidote."

Albus smiled at his daughter once more. "Thank you, again, Tracey."

The tears started streaming down her cheeks once more. "You're my father. I couldn't risk losing you."

 "I know," Albus settled back against his pillows.

Minerva squeezed his hand before standing up. "I need to address the students now. You may stay with him if you wish, Miss Cooper."

 "Thanks, Professor." Tracey swiped at her tears as Minerva turned to leave.

 "Minerva?" She stopped at the doorway and half-turned so she could see him. "Tell the students I will see them at dinner."

 "And if Poppy says you won't be allowed?" Minerva asked, raising an eyebrow.

 "I'll still be at dinner." He smiled at her, blue eyes twinkling merrily.

Minerva nodded and left. When she arrived in the Great Hall, utter silence fell and she could feel everyone's eyes on her as she made her way to the High Table. Once she was standing by her seat, she addressed the students. "Professor Dumbledore has regained consciousness." The students cheered and Minerva was thankful they cared so much for Albus. "He will make a full recovery and has informed me that he has every intention of being at dinner tonight."

As the students resumed eating, Poppy got up and intercepted Minerva before she could leave the Great Hall. "What if I won't allow him?"

Minerva gave the other woman a half-smile. "He'll come anyway. You might as well allow it, Poppy, his mind's made up."

The medi-witch nodded and returned to her meal. Minerva sighed and left the Great Hall.

*          *            *

Conversation in the Great Hall during dinner was muted and subdued. A majority of the students were worried about their Headmaster and those who weren't had the presence of mind not to show it. At the Gryffindor table, Harry was the quietest of the lot. Despite the fact that he'd been angry with Dumbledore for not telling him about the prophecy sooner, he still looked up to the wizard. Dumbledore was a sort of grandfather to Harry and the boy would hate to lose him. He sighed and pushed his food around on his plate aimlessly. He really didn't have much of an appetite.

 "Harry," Ginny jogged his elbow, "look over at the doors."

The boy did as she suggested and brightened up. Dumbledore, wearing midnight blue robes embroidered with silver moons and stars stood framed in the doorway, with McGonagall, in emerald green, standing on his right and Professor Cooper, in robes of aquamarine, on his left. As the three professors made their way to the High Table, applause swept the Great Hall. Dumbledore moved a tad more slowly than usual, but he didn't falter. He even held McGonagall's and Professor Cooper's chairs for them before holding up his hands to stop the applause. "Thank you, ladies and gentlemen. Your concern is very much appreciated, as well as the get-well cards and gifts I have received."

And, with that, Dumbledore sat down. Harry's appetite suddenly decided to put in an appearance and the boy began to eat with gusto. He was almost finished when someone tapped him on his shoulder. "Mr. Potter?"

He turned and looked straight into Professor Cooper's eyes. "Yes, Professor?"

 "Professor Dumbledore would like to see you in his office after dinner," she told him, bright blue eyes reminiscent of Dumbledore. "The password is 'strawberry laces.'"

 "Thank you, Professor," Harry replied.

 "You're welcome, Mr. Potter." She nodded to him and returned to the High Table.

*          *            *

 "Albus, are you sure you're up to this?" Minerva asked, studying his face with concern. "You were unconscious for over twelve hours, after all."

He smiled and took her hand in his. "I'm fine, Minerva. Don't worry about me."

She sighed and squeezed his hand. "Very well. I need to speak with Miss Cooper anyway."

Albus nodded and watched her leave. He leaned back in his chair with a sigh. If truth were told, he _was_ a little exhausted. However, there was work that needed to be done and it could not be delayed much longer.

At that moment, someone knocked on the door to his office. Albus waved his hand and the door opened. Harry entered. "You wanted to see me, Professor?"

 "Yes, Harry." Albus indicated the seat across from him. "Why don't you have a seat?"

The teenager crossed the room and sat down, looking around. The memory of the boy's last visit was indelibly etched into the headmaster's memory. Every shout, every crash, every accusation was a painful reminder of his own shortcomings. Albus firmly pushed those memories aside and focused on the boy in front of him. Harry's face was paler than usual and thinner than Albus would have liked, but that couldn't be helped. "Why did you want to see me, Sir?"

Albus sighed and folded his hands together on top of his desk. "I realize now that having Professor Snape teach you Occlumency wasn't the best idea in the world. Your mutual dislike--" Harry rolled his eyes, but Albus continued. "--for each other is too large an obstacle for either of you to overcome. Therefore, I will be instructing you."

Harry's bright green eyes widened. "Are you sure, Professor? As you said, it might open you to an attack from Voldemort."

Albus smiled. "We don't have much of a choice, Harry."

The boy nodded, his eyes far too old for him. "I understand, Sir. When will we start?"

 "Next week," Albus told him. "We'll meet here at seven o' clock every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday."

 "Yes, Sir." Harry stood up to leave.

He was at the door when Albus spoke again. "And Harry?"

He turned back. "Yes, Professor?"

 "Don't forget to clear your mind before you go to sleep every night."

 "Yes, Sir." Harry left.

*          *            *

When Tracey opened her door to Minerva's knock, the Head of Gryffindor felt as if she was looking at a younger, female Albus Dumbledore wearing a light blue terry cloth dressing gown. "Hello, Professor."

 "Hello, Miss Cooper. May I come in?" Minerva replied.

 "Oh, sure." Tracey opened the door wider and stepped aside.

Minerva swept past her into the sitting room. The furnishings had been changed to reflect Tracey's tastes. The maple pieces gleamed in the firelight and the navy and maroon cloth leant warmth to the room. "What did you think of today?"

Tracey flopped onto the couch in front of the fire, tucking her legs up underneath her. "A little stressful."

Minerva smiled and sat down at the other end of the couch from the younger woman. "I would imagine so. Congratulations on brewing the antidote properly."

 "Thanks." Tracey's cheeks flushed. "It wasn't that hard, but it was a little nerve-wracking."

 "Because it was for Albus?" Minerva asked.

Tracey nodded. "Yeah. Oh, I'm sorry, did you want something to drink?"

 "Tea will be fine," Minerva replied. Tracey waved her wand and a cup of tea appeared in mid-air between them. Minerva plucked it and took a sip. "Thank you."

 "You're welcome." Tracey had conjured up cup of tea for herself. She took a sip and frowned. "I don't think I'll ever understand what's so wonderful about this stuff." Another wave of her wand and her tea had changed to hot cocoa. "Ah, much better."

Minerva smiled and sipped at her tea. "I expect you to be able to sit in on classes for the rest of this week, however. You won't be able to help me if you're spending all your time with Albus."

Tracey nodded and swallowed the sip of her cocoa she'd taken. "I understand. Today was a one-time thing."

 "Well, for the time-being, anyway," Minerva commented, draining her cup and setting it on the low table in front of the couch.

Tracey stared at her. "What do you mean, Professor?"

Minerva sighed. "I'm afraid whoever managed to slip the Draught of Living Death into Albus' drink last night will make another attempt on his life."

Tracey sighed in response and set her cup on the low table as well. "I'm afraid you're right." She stood and began to pace the room, once again reminding Minerva of a caged lion--lioness. "Do you think I'm sufficiently advanced in Transfiguration to attempt the Animagus transformation?"

Minerva watched the younger woman for a moment. "At the risk of giving you a swelled head, I thought so after a month of training."

Tracey stopped and stared at Minerva. "Are you serious?"

Minerva nodded. "Absolutely."

A broad smile appeared on her face. "Wow."

 "Incidentally, why do you ask?" Minerva decided it was time to get back on track.

Tracey sobered. "I have a feeling it might come in handy."

 "I have a feeling you're right."

*          *            *

When Tracey woke up the next morning, she found a stack of books sitting on her night table, along with a note. After slipping her glasses on, she read the note:

_Miss Cooper,_

_These books are to help you get started on the Animagus transformation. The only time you will be allowed to read them is in the evenings. And this project is only between you and I. If you have any questions, don't hesitate to ask._

Prof. M. McGonagall 


	7. Settling In

Out of the Clear Blue Sky  
  
Chapter Seven - Settling In  
  
A/N: Some more evil writer's block, but it's taken care of. Enjoy!  
  
Because Tracey looked to be about the same age as the older students, some were disinclined to give her the respect she deserved as a member of the staff at Hogwarts. This concerned Albus and Minerva, but Tracey managed to nip any disrespect in the bud, mainly by refusing to take any guff from any student. Though most were taller than her, she had long ago learned how to use her size to her advantage, although she had to adapt her methods somewhat to allow for magic. It didn't take long for the students to learn it wasn't wise to cross Professor Cooper.  
  
The week passed by in a blur for Tracey. True to her word, she didn't read the books Professor McGonagall had given her to study for the Animagus transformation except after dinner. She spent the days sitting in on the sixth and seventh year classes, just listening, so she could get a feel for how each professor taught their classes, and get used to having lots of students around. For this, Tracey was grateful. It meant she would be less likely to screw up in front of the students when she started teaching Transfiguration classes. She was nervous enough about it in the first place. Though she'd progressed rapidly during the two or so months since her rather unorthodox arrival, she was still a little unsure of herself.  
  
When Saturday arrived, Tracey breathed a sigh of relief. She had enjoyed sitting in on the classes, but there was something to be said for leisure time. Tracey curled up in a corner of her sofa with one of the books Professor McGonagall had given her, fully intending to devote part of her day to reading, but a knock at the door disturbed her before she even read a word. Sighing, she set the book aside and got up to answer the door. "Good morning, Professor."  
  
"Hello, Miss Cooper," Professor McGonagall replied, adjusting the pile of parchment in her arms. "May I come in?"  
  
Tracey nodded and stepped aside. "Yes, Professor."  
  
The older witch swept past Tracey into the room. "I have some assignments for you to mark, Miss Cooper."  
  
Tracey stared at the pile as Professor McGonagall set it on the writing desk. "You want me to mark _all_ of those, Professor?"  
  
She nodded as she turned to Tracey. "Yes, these assignments are all from the first year through third year classes."  
  
"That wasn't my concern, Professor," the redhead confessed.  
  
"Oh?" A black eyebrow rose. "What _is_ your concern, Miss Cooper?"  
  
Tracey met the professor's dark green gaze a little sheepishly. "I was hoping to get some extra reading in today."  
  
Professor McGonagall smiled slightly. "Mark those assignments, and then you'll be free to read whatever you wish."  
  
Tracey nodded. "Yes, Professor."  
  
The dark-haired witch left without another word. Tracey glanced at the sofa, sighed, sat down at her writing desk, picked up her quill, dipped it in an inkbottle full of red ink, pulled the pile of parchment towards her, and began to read.  
  
* * *  
  
Tracey was very nervous. Minerva had asked her to teach the first year Gryffindors and Slytherins that morning and Tracey had agreed. She'd spent the previous evening preparing for the class itself instead of doing her reading for the Animagi transformation. Now she sat behind the teacher's desk, auburn hair pulled back into a twist, rectangular glasses perched in the bridge of her nose, and deep blue robes embroidered with silver layered over a pale gray dress. She struggled to appear calm, wanting her father to be proud of her.  
  
She watched quietly as the students filed into the classroom. Many did double takes when they saw Tracey instead of Minerva, but they took their seats without commenting. They assumed they would be given an explanation. When the last of the students had taken their seats, Tracey stood to address them. "Hello, class. Professor McGonagall asked me to teach today's lesson. All I ask from you is that you give me the same respect you give Professor McGonagall. Is that clear?"  
  
There was a general murmur of assent. "Good. Now, it is my understanding that most of you can Transfigure a match into a needle now." Students nodded. "Excellent. Now we will be moving on to something a little more complex."  
  
The students exchanged excited looks. "Before we do, however," Tracey flicked her wand at the board and it was soon covered with her neat, precise, slightly loopy handwriting, "you will need to copy down these notes."  
  
The students groaned and rummaged in their bags for parchment, quills, and ink. As they did so, Tracey collected the homework Minerva had assigned them over the weekend. Leaving it in a pile on the desk, she moved up and down the rows, making sure the students were copying the notes. "Miss Lawson, that doesn't look like the notes to me."  
  
The redhead blushed furiously and, stuffing the letter she'd been writing into her bag, she hastily resumed copying the notes.  
  
"Mr. Bates, have you finished copying the notes?" she asked the boy with curly brown hair beside the redhead.  
  
"Yes, Professor." He handed his parchment to her.  
  
She skimmed over what he'd written. "You missed a whole paragraph, Mr. Bates." She returned his parchment to him.  
  
"Where?" he asked, puzzled.  
  
"Right there." She pointed it out.  
  
"Oh." He began scribbling furiously.  
  
"Slow down," she told him, "it's not a race."  
  
He nodded without looking up and his scribbling slowed down.  
  
When they finished copying the notes, Tracey handed out bottle caps for the students to change into buttons. As they attempted to do so, Tracey again moved up and down the rows, providing help when it was needed and prodding students when necessary.  
  
By the end of the class period, few students had managed to change their bottle cap into a button. Tracey collected the results of their attempts and sent them on their way. When the door closed behind the last student, a sleek silver tabby cat who'd been watching from the windowsill jumped down and turned into Minerva. Tracey smiled timidly as the older woman approached the teacher's desk. "Well?"  
  
Minerva didn't speak for a moment, choosing to study the notes Tracey had left on the board. Finally, she turned to the smaller woman. "You have a knack for teaching, Miss Cooper."  
  
Tracey's smile became bolder. "Thank you, Professor."  
  
Minerva nodded to the pile of parchment on the desk. "Mark those tonight before you do any reading."  
  
Tracey sighed and nodded. "Yes, Professor."  
  
* * *  
  
"Strawberry laces." The gargoyle jumped aside and Harry stepped onto the spiral staircase. He reached the top and knocked on the door. It opened silently and he entered Professor Dumbledore's office.  
  
"Good evening, Harry," the Headmaster greeted him. "Have a seat."  
  
Harry sat in the chair opposite Professor Dumbledore. The Pensieve sat on the desk between them, patterns of white light dancing on the ceiling above. As Harry watched, Dumbledore put his wand to his temple and, drawing it away, placed the thought in the Pensieve. When he was done, he looked at Harry. "There is a reason Professor Snape placed some of his thoughts in the Pensieve before teaching you, Harry."  
  
The boy looked down at his knees, ashamed. "There are some things he didn't want me to see."  
  
"Yes, Harry," Dumbledore replied. "That is why I must ask you not to look into the Pensieve anymore. To do so is to invade the privacy of whoever's memory you find yourself in. Whether it is mine or Professor Snape's."  
  
Harry looked up and met the Headmaster's gaze. "Yes, Sir."  
  
Dumbledore picked up the Pensieve and set it aside. "Now, are you ready to begin?"  
  
Harry nodded. "Yes, Sir."  
  
"Very well." Dumbledore sat down in the chair behind his desk. "You must first learn to empty your mind. Let go of all your feelings, Harry. Let go of your anger and your hate. They will only give Voldemort a foothold."  
  
Without realizing it, Harry took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Slowly, his eyes drifted shut.  
  
"Good Harry. Now, I want you to focus on keeping your mind clear. Don't let me into your mind." Harry nodded. "_Legimens._"  
  
Harry could see his memories, but it was as if there was a gauzy material between himself and the memories. He fought the invasion with his mind, pushing Dumbledore out. When Harry opened his eyes, he was still sitting in front of Dumbledore's desk and the Headmaster had his wand out, but relaxed.  
  
"Very good, Harry. It's a start." Dumbledore began scooping his thoughts out of the Pensieve. "Don't forget to clear your mind before you go to bed every night. I'll see you on Wednesday."  
  
Harry nodded and left, feeling a little drained.  
  
* * *  
  
Tracey, bundled up against the cold September winds, joined Xiomara for the Quidditch tryouts, particularly Gryffindor. "I'm glad Dumbledore let Potter rejoin Gryffindor's team."  
  
Tracey nodded and her eyes were drawn to the boy, who was standing with Ron Weasley. "They need three new players, don't they?"  
  
Xiomara nodded as she watched Ron take flight. The redhead had become much more confident in his abilities since Gryffindor had won the Quidditch cup. "Although it wouldn't hurt for them to find two new Beaters."  
  
Tracey shrugged. "You know the game better than I do, although Ron's idea of having them strictly protect the Chasers in that last game against Ravenclaw seems to have worked."  
  
Xiomara nodded again. "Yes, it did."  
  
Neither said anything more, watching as students of varying levels of talents and skills passed the Quaffle back and forth, occasionally trying to get a shot past Ron. Harry hovered nearby, watching closely as the Quaffle changed hands. Finally, Harry called a halt to the tryouts and he and Ron huddled with the two Beaters to discuss which of the students trying out should be made Chaser. After a long discussion, they announced their choices for Chasers and Ginny Weasley was at the top of the list. Harry also announced he would be training a Seeker to take over when he finished at Hogwarts and told Colin he would help the younger boy train.  
  
As the Gryffindors trudged up to the castle, Tracey lingered to help Xiomara with the Quidditch balls. "What'd you think, Tracey?"  
  
"Interesting," Tracey replied, lifting one end of the box containing the four balls. "I have vague memories of Quidditch, but I'd rather watch it instead of play it."  
  
Xiomara shrugged. "Your flying has improved, but you really need to get over your fear of heights."  
  
"I know." Tracey sighed. "I just prefer to keep my feet firmly planted on the ground."  
  
"Why are you afraid of heights, anyway?" Xiomara asked as they climbed the front steps. "Not that I'm prying, but I _am_ curious."  
  
Tracey thought for a moment as they approached the older witch's office. "I really don't know. That part is still a bit of a muddle."  
  
Xiomara nodded as she opened her office door with a wave of her wand. "I understand. I just thought I'd ask."  
  
They placed the box on its shelf and settled into chairs, Xiomara behind her desk and Tracey in front of it. "May I ask you a question?"  
  
Xiomara pulled a cigarette out of her pocket and lit it with a tap of her wand. "Not at all. Ask away."  
  
"Is there anything going on between you and Professor Snape?" Tracey asked, eyes bright with curiosity.  
  
The question didn't seem to surprise the taller witch. She took a long drag of her cigarette and blew the smoke out slowly. "I suppose you could say that he and I have an...understanding." Tracey nodded and watched as Xiomara took another drag and slowly released it. "Is there a reason you asked?"  
  
Tracey shook her head. "Just curiosity."  
  
Xiomara nodded. "Don't you need to be somewhere else right now?"  
  
Tracey looked at her watch and yelped. "Crud! Professor McGonagall wanted to see me two minutes ago! Bye, 'Mara."  
  
Xiomara watched the younger witch go with a grimace. "I hate that nickname."  
  
* * *  
  
Just as Minerva was getting impatient, her office door banged open to admit a flushed and breathless young woman. Tracey's glasses were askew on her nose and her hair had come loose from the braid she'd pulled it back into. "You're late, Miss Cooper."  
  
"I know." Tracey entered and closed the door behind her. "I was talking with Xiomara and lost track of time."  
  
Minerva nodded and indicated the homework assignments sitting on her desk. "Take a look at these and tell me if you can find anything wrong with them."  
  
Tracey picked up an assignment and began skimming through it. Making a sound of annoyance, she adjusted her glasses and resumed studying it. "They didn't do the formulas correctly. If they tried to perform this spell, they're liable to end up with a bright green hedgehog instead of Vanishing it."  
  
Minerva made no comment, indicating the next homework assignment. Tracey picked it up and studied it carefully, bright blue eyes reminiscent of her father's. "Two mistakes in the formulas, but they cancel each other out."  
  
Minerva indicated the last homework assignment. Tracey picked it up and stared at it. Slowly, she turned the assignment the other way and stared hard. She then turned it sideways. She turned it the other way. Finally, she looked at Minerva. "Whoever did this assignment had no clue what they were trying to do."  
  
Minerva bit back a smile. Instead, she tapped the first assignment. "Your assessment of this assignment was correct. I had the student re-work the formulas before I allowed them to attempt the spell." Her finger tapped the next assignment. "I allowed this student to attempt the spell, but asked that they re-work the formulas." She indicated the assignment Tracey still held. "This student was told to do the homework over again before I even allowed them _near_ a hedgehog."  
  
Tracey stifled a chuckle and set the assignment back on the desk. "Was there anything else, Professor?"  
  
"Yes, Professor Dumbledore asked to speak with both of us tonight after dinner," Minerva informed the younger witch. "He didn't say what he wished to speak with us about."  
  
Tracey nodded. "Thanks, Professor. I'll be going now."  
  
Minerva nodded and watched the young woman go. "She's so much like her father." 


	8. Time Passes

Out of the Clear Blue Sky  
  
Chapter Eight - Time Passes  
  
A/N: This is officially my longest fic ever! Many thanks to Filodea and Thestral for their help!  
  
Tracey slowly walked through the corridors of Hogwarts, rubbing fretfully at her forehead. She got these headaches periodically and they usually indicated that she needed a change in the prescription of her glasses. The last time she'd had the lenses of her glasses changed was two years before, so she guessed she was about due for another change. That was why she was on her way to the hospital wing, to ask if Poppy could do anything for her. She finally reached the hospital wing and, without stopping to knock, entered. Her eyes grew very round at the sight that met her eyes and she quickly backed out of the room and knocked on the door. "Poppy?"  
  
She heard a flurry of movement, a rustle of robes, and the distinct clunk of wood on stone. The door opened to reveal the school nurse looking rather flushed and breathless, her hair mussed. "Hello, Tracey, what can I do for you?"  
  
"May I come in?" Tracey asked politely, trying to remain calm.  
  
"Oh, right." Poppy reluctantly opened the door wider to let the younger woman enter. Tracey slipped past her into the hospital wing, immediately spotting the man standing at the window, leaning on a walking staff.  
  
"Hello," Tracey greeted him, even though she knew who he was. "Who are you?"  
  
The man turned from the window, revealing the magical eye spinning rapidly in his right eye socket. He studied her closely for a moment before looking past her at Poppy. "Poppy?"  
  
"She's alright, Alastor," Poppy told him, moving around Tracey to put a hand on his arm. "This is Tracey Cooper, the headmaster's daughter." Poppy looked at the redhead. "Tracey, this is Alastor Moody, a very dear friend of mine."  
  
"Hello, Mr. Moody," Tracey extended her hand to him. The hand that gripped hers was laced with scars, but his grip was strong. "It's nice to meet you."  
  
He studied her closely with both eyes and she bore the scrutiny without comment. "Miss Cooper. I've never seen you before."  
  
She flexed her hand when he released it, trying to get the blood flowing again. "I've been in America studying among the Muggles for the past hundred years or so. I accidentally drank an Ageing potion that turned me back into a twenty-year-old and my memories got muddled up in the process."  
  
He grunted in acknowledgement. "You shouldn't volunteer information like that. For all you know, I could be your enemy."  
  
"You're not," she answered simply.  
  
He looked sharply at her. "How can you be sure?"  
  
She smiled enigmatically at him. "I have my ways."  
  
"You sound like Albus," he muttered gruffly.  
  
"Thank you," she replied with a curtsey.  
  
"I didn't mean it as a compliment," he countered, the corner of his mouth twitching as if he was holding back a smile.  
  
"I know," she made no effort to hide her smile, "but I took it as one."  
  
"Obviously."  
  
"That's enough, both of you," Poppy inserted. "Miss Cooper, why are you here?"  
  
Tracey slipped her glasses off and handed them to the mediwitch. "I think my prescription needs to be changed, Poppy. I've been getting headaches too often lately."  
  
"Have a seat on the bed," Poppy told her absently, examining the glasses closely. "I'll see what I can do."  
  
Alastor cleared his throat. "I need to go now."  
  
Poppy looked up at him with disappointment on her face. "Must you, Alastor?"  
  
He nodded, clumping closer and raising his free hand to cup her cheek. "Yes, Poppy. I'll write, I promise."  
  
She covered his hand with hers, her brown eyes locked with his. "You know I'll write."  
  
He nodded and kissed her tenderly, bringing a lump to Tracey's throat and she quickly averted her gaze. "I love you, Poppy."  
  
"I love you, too, Alastor," she whispered.  
  
Tracey waited until the door had shut behind the retired Auror before looking at the older witch once more. "Poppy?"  
  
"Hmm?" Poppy looked at Tracey distractedly.  
  
"My glasses?" Tracey gently prodded.  
  
"Oh! Right." Poppy blinked and looked at the glasses in her hand. She tapped the lenses with her wand, and then between Tracey's eyes. Once the orange glow that had surrounded both faded, Poppy handed the glasses back to Tracey. "There you go."  
  
Tracey slipped them back on. "Thanks, Poppy."  
  
"You're welcome, Tracey," Poppy replied, turning to look out the window.  
  
Tracey joined her at the window in time to see Alastor Moody disappear into thin air outside the gates of Hogwarts. "How long have you two been a couple?"  
  
Poppy glanced sharply at the younger woman, but Tracey stared determinedly out the window. The mediwitch sighed. "We've known each other for years, but I didn't truly let myself love him until a little over a year ago."  
  
Tracey frowned, but continued to look out the window at nothing. "Why?"  
  
Another sigh. "Alastor's family life wasn't the best in the world and he learned early on not to let himself care about anyone. However, Minerva, Xiomara, Sylvia, and I refused to let him keep us at arm's length and we all befriended him." Tracey grinned. "As time passed, he and I grew closer together, but he was trained that to love someone was a weakness that could be exploited during his Auror training. I knew of this fact and respected his wish to remain strictly friends." Poppy blinked back tears. "When he was brought in after the third task of the Triwizard Tournament, I decided not to waste time and let myself love him as I should have. Neither of us has looked back."  
  
Tracey looked up at the older witch with an impish smile. "So, has he proposed yet?"  
  
Poppy smiled calmly and held up her left hand. A silver ring with two sets of initials engraved on it shimmered in the twilight sun shining through the window. Tracey looked closely at the initials and smiled: AM and PP. "Congratulations, Poppy."  
  
"Thank you, Tracey." Poppy smiled down at her.  
  
"You're welcome." Tracey sighed and glanced out the window one last time. "Well, it's almost time for dinner. We should head down to the Great Hall."  
  
Together, they left the hospital wing.  
  
* * *  
  
Tracey was unusually quiet all through dinner, which caused Albus and Minerva some concern. As the three made their way up to the Headmaster's office after dinner, she walked a little apart from the other two, her auburn head bowed in thought.  
  
Speaking softly so only Albus could hear, Minerva asked, "Albus, do you know what's wrong with Miss Cooper?"  
  
He looked down at her, surprised. "I was about to ask you the same, Minerva."  
  
"I take it you don't know, then?" Minerva asked quietly, glancing over at the other witch.  
  
He shook his head. "I wish I did. You don't know, either?"  
  
"No, I don't," she confirmed with a shake of her head. "She was fine when I talked with her earlier."  
  
"Hmm." At that moment, they reached the gargoyle guarding the entrance to Albus' rooms. It sprang aside without needing to be told the password. They ascended to the office and moved through it into the cozy study beyond. They settled into armchairs in front of the fire. "Would either of you care for something to drink? Tea? Hot chocolate? Coffee?"  
  
"Tea will be fine, Albus," Minerva replied.  
  
"Hot chocolate," was Tracey's barely-audible reply.  
  
In moments, each was holding a steaming mug. Minerva sipped at her tea cautiously and made a face. "Must it be so sweet, Albus?"  
  
He chuckled quietly. Tracey barely smiled, automatically sipping at her hot chocolate. Albus and Minerva exchanged a concerned look. "Tracey? Is something wrong?"  
  
She looked up, startled. "Oh, I'm sorry, Father, did you say something?"  
  
"I asked if there's something wrong," Albus replied. "Is there?"  
  
Tracey shook her head. "No, I've just been thinking."  
  
Albus raised a silver eyebrow. "About what?"  
  
She sighed and, slipping her shoes off, drew her knees up to her chest. "I met Alastor Moody today."  
  
Minerva's eyebrows rose. "When, Miss Cooper?"  
  
"I went to the hospital wing because I've been getting a lot of headaches lately," Tracey explained. "I was hoping Poppy would be able to do something for me. I made the mistake of not knocking before I went into the hospital wing."  
  
"Let me guess," Minerva inserted dryly, "Alastor was with Poppy?"  
  
Tracey nodded. "Yes, and they were kissing. Needless to say, I made a discrete exit and knocked to let them know I was there."  
  
Albus nodded wisely. "An excellent course of action."  
  
Tracey smiled, blue eyes twinkling. "Yes, I don't think they even knew I was there until I knocked."  
  
Minerva studied the young woman closely. Despite the smile lingering on her lips, it wasn't reaching her eyes for some reason. "Miss Cooper? Is there something else?"  
  
Tracey sighed and stared into the fire. "Did you know that they're engaged?"  
  
Both of them nodded. "Yes, Alastor asked for my advice before he proposed to her."  
  
"And Poppy told me not long afterwards," Minerva added. "Why?"  
  
Tracey shrugged. "I'm happy for them, of course, but it makes me wonder if there's someone out there for me."  
  
"I'm sure there is, Tracey," Albus told his daughter. "It is said that there is someone out there for each of us."  
  
This time her smile reached her eyes. "Thanks, Father."  
  
"You're welcome, Tracey." Albus smiled gently at his daughter and Minerva felt a pang in the vicinity of her heart.  
  
"Now," Tracey set her mug on the low table, "why did you wish to meet with Professor McGonagall and I?"  
  
"I was merely curious as to how you've been getting on," Albus answered. "I seem to recall certain rumors circulating about you and Mr. Malfoy?"  
  
A deep blush suffused the young woman's features as Minerva replied, "Yes, Mr. Malfoy decided he didn't need to treat Miss Cooper with respect, since she was smaller than him. And attractive to boot..."  
  
* * *  
  
The blonde boy sneered down at the redhead. "Why should I treat you with any respect? You don't look like you're much older than I am."  
  
"Looks can be deceiving, Mr. Malfoy," Tracey countered quietly, her hands folded into the sleeves of her robes, much as Albus would. "Haven't you heard that you shouldn't judge a book by its cover?"  
  
The arrogant, pointed face twisted further. "There are some books where the cover tells all."  
  
"Not this one." Tracey's blue eyes were cold as ice and, if Minerva had been in Malfoy's position, she would have backed down.  
  
However, Malfoy pressed the matter by grabbing the redhead and trying to kiss her. He never got that far. He instead found himself jerked off his feet and slammed onto the floor. Tracey planted a foot on his crotch and pointed her wand at his face. Her eyes were blazing and her face was flushed with anger. "You ever try that again, Mr. Malfoy, I'll do worse than take 25 points from Slytherin and a detention. Do you understand me?"  
  
The teenager nodded, finally realizing the danger he was in. "Yes, Professor."  
  
"Good." Tracey removed her foot and stepped back. "I will speak with Professor Snape about your detention. Now get to class."  
  
The blonde meekly nodded and slipped into the Transfiguration classroom. The students who'd watched the display applauded loudly. Tracey blushed and entered the classroom herself...  
  
* * *  
  
Albus was smiling, amused, by the time Minerva finished. "A little strong, but you have to make up for being small, don't you, Tracey?"  
  
Her face a deep red, Tracey could only nod and bury herself in her mug of hot chocolate. "Crabbe and Goyle, at least, knew better than to try to hit a girl, or even a professor."  
  
"Thank God for small favors," Tracey muttered into the dregs of her hot chocolate.  
  
Albus' eyes twinkled. "Well, who would like to play chess?"  
  
* * *  
  
Harry lay awake in bed, thinking. Several months had been and gone. Despite a few twinges from the scar on his forehead, nothing had happened to indicate that Voldemort was planning anything. It was as if he was biding his time, waiting for a signal. Making a frustrated sigh, he rolled over and began to clear his mind.  
  
* * *  
  
"Your Draught of the Living Death didn't work," he hissed angrily. "You ssaid you would get rid of the fool."  
  
"Give me time," was the haughty reply. "This takes careful planning. Much more careful planning than you think."  
  
"Time iss the one thing you don't have much of," he shot back. "And neither do I! The longer Potter sstayss alive, the better hiss chanccess of ssurviving a duel with me."  
  
"Oh, boohoo," came the sarcastic reply. "It's always you, isn't it? Not this time! This time it's about me and what _I_ want! And I want Albus Dumbledore dead! I've waited fifty-one years for this chance and I'm going to take it!"  
  
With that, Voldemort's partner in crime turned and swept out of the room. The tall, lanky wizard glared at the door, red eyes glowing malevolently. "Wormtail!"  
  
A small, pudgy man with thinning colorless hair and a silver hand appeared. "Y-yes, m-my Lord?"  
  
"We musst make planss," Voldemort hissed. "In casse our ally failss."  
  
"Yes, m-my L-Lord." 


	9. Change of Plans

Out of the Clear Blue Sky  
  
Chapter Nine - Change of Plans  
  
A/N: New characters are introduced, but their roles in this fic are rather small.  
  
"Tracey?" Sandra Andrews padded down the hallway to her daughter's room. She could see the light shining from under the doorway and knew her daughter was up. She knocked. "Tracey? Are you awake?" Receiving no answer, Sandra opened the door and peeked in the room. It was empty, save for several cats, and the computer was on, glowing innocently. Moving cautiously towards the computer, Sandra stared at the screen. There was nothing on it. Nothing at all. Beginning to panic, Sandra flew through the house, looking everywhere for her daughter. She was nowhere to be found. She was gone.  
  
That had been almost four months ago. Sandra had reported Tracey missing when a day passed without any trace of her daughter. No clues were found to indicate what had happened to her. Sandra's husband, Ryan, tried to comfort her, but a mother's grief over a lost child runs deep. It was with great reluctance that they declared Tracey Cooper dead. Sandra wrestled long and hard with the decision and stalled for as long as she could, but finally bowed to the inevitable. Though her daughter was declared dead, she would always hope that, one day, Tracey would come back to her.  
  
* * *  
  
Tracey pulled her glasses off and rubbed her burning eyes with the tips of her fingers. It had been a long day and she was having trouble focusing on the words printed on the page in front of her. A touch on her shoulder startled the young witch and she jumped, bumping the table she was sitting at, sending a stack of books to the floor with a series of dull thuds that echoed in the library. "I'm sorry, Miss Cooper."  
  
Tracey stared up at the professor standing beside her uncomprehendingly. "Professor? What are you doing here?"  
  
"Looking for you," Minerva replied as Tracey waved her wand at the books that had fallen. They flew back onto the table and arranged themselves into a somewhat neat stack. "What are you doing in here at this time of night?"  
  
"Research," Tracey replied, showing the elder witch the book she'd been reading.  
  
Minerva took the book and stared at the cover. "These spells aren't taught here, Miss Cooper."  
  
She shrugged. "I know, but it sounded interesting and, besides, one of those spells actually made it into the other universe."  
  
Minerva handed the book back to Tracey. "What do you mean?"  
  
"I've told you about the fact that fans wrote stories based on the books, of course," Tracey began. Minerva nodded. "Well, since we didn't know about all the spells, we made some up. One author made up a spell called _Amora Primus_."  
  
"First Love," Minerva translated.  
  
Tracey nodded. "Exactly. The way the author explained it, it only works one time. Once you've said the words with magic behind them, that's it."  
  
"What is the purpose of the spell?" Minerva asked curiously. "And how does it work?"  
  
Tracey eyes twinkled with some inner amusement. "It can save the love of your life, even if he is inches from death. If he is _not_ the love of your life, well..."  
  
"What?" Minerva asked when Tracey's voice trailed off. "If he isn't the love of your life, what happens?"  
  
"The spell has the opposite effect," Tracey explained quietly. "It will kill him. That's why it's not used very often. It only works once and few people want to risk the lives of their sweethearts."  
  
Minerva nodded thoughtfully. "Makes sense. How does the spell work?"  
  
Tracey thought for a moment. "You place your wand hand over his heart, say _Amora Primus_, and then kiss him."  
  
Minerva looked thoughtful for a moment, but shook herself and looked at Tracey. "This came from a story, you say? That someone had written?"  
  
Tracey nodded. "Yep, but, it was such a good spell that I decided to try to find it here."  
  
"_Did_ you find it?" Minerva asked, her curiosity getting the better of her.  
  
Tracey smiled, and opened the book to a page she'd marked already. "Yep, and it's the same as the author described it."  
  
Minerva took the book and studied the page carefully. "Indeed. This is an interesting spell, Miss Cooper, but I think it's time you went to bed."  
  
"Yes, Professor," Tracey gathered up the books she'd brought down to the library with her and headed to her rooms. Minerva remained where she was, studying the spell thoughtfully. It would be nice to know, but she didn't want to risk losing him, either.  
  
* * *  
  
"Good morning, Professor," Tracey greeted her father at breakfast several days later.  
  
"Good morning, Tracey," Albus replied, his voice sober.  
  
Tracey sank into her seat beside his. She'd slept late and had missed the morning post. "Anything interesting in this morning's post?"  
  
Albus wordlessly handed the _The Daily Prophet_ to her. Tracey saw the headline and her jaw dropped. _MASS BREAKOUT OF AZKABAN ONCE MORE_. With growing horror, she read through the entire article. By the time she finished, she was feeling decidedly sick to her stomach. Dropping the paper back onto the table, she pushed her barely-touched breakfast away from her. "Are you alright, Tracey?"  
  
She shook her head. "Excuse me." She hurried from the Great Hall to a nearby bathroom. When she was done emptying her stomach of the little food that remained from last night, she rinsed her mouth out and washed her face. Looking up, she was surprised by the witch standing in the doorway of the bathroom. "Professor McGonagall."  
  
"I thought you'd like some water," Minerva commented quietly, holding up the glass in her hand. "It will get rid of the taste."  
  
"I'm not sure if it'll help, but I'll give it a try." Tracey took the glass and drank the water. It was cold and, indeed, the lingering taste of vomit disappeared down her throat with the water. She smiled up at Minerva. "Thanks, Professor."  
  
"You're welcome, Miss Cooper." Minerva watched silently as Tracey banished the glass to the kitchens. "I gather you saw today's headline?"  
  
Tracey made a face and joined Minerva in the bathroom doorway. "Why now, though? Why not sooner, or later?"  
  
Minerva shrugged as the bathroom door closed behind them. "I really don't know, Miss Cooper. No one truly understands how a mind like Tom Riddle's works."  
  
Tracey nodded as they made their way back to the Great Hall. _Looks like I'm right in the middle of things. Great._ She took her seat beside her father once more. "Feeling better, Tracey?"  
  
"Yes, Professor," Tracey replied, giving him a strained smile. "A little, at least."  
  
"Good." He patted her hand and turned back to his breakfast.  
  
Tracey looked at the barely-touched plate of food. "I don't seem to have much of an appetite anymore."  
  
* * *  
  
Tracey blinked when she saw, and heard, Alastor Moody pass her in the corridor early that afternoon. Last she'd heard, he'd still been in London. He'd probably come up to see Poppy, though she couldn't imagine what it would be about. When she found out later, she was ready to smack herself for not thinking of it...  
  
* * *  
  
"Oh, Alastor!" Poppy threw herself at him almost the minute she let him into her rooms.  
  
Wrapping his free arm around her, he gently eased both of them into her sitting room and nudged the door shut behind him with his walking stick. "Sh, Poppy, sh. It's alright. I'm here."  
  
As she continued to sob into his shoulder, he guided her over to the sofa and sat down, stretching his wooden leg out in front of him. She practically climbed into his lap once they were seated, her face still buried in his shoulder, her body shaking with the force of her sobs. She managed to force out a coherent sentence between her sobs, "I'm so frightened, Alastor!"  
  
He pressed a kiss to the top of her head. "Crying isn't going to help, Poppy. Please try to calm down."  
  
She nodded and gulped back one last sob, sitting up. "You're right. We need to stay calm and talk about this rationally."  
  
He kissed her forehead. "That's my Poppy."  
  
She favored him with a watery smile. "Thank you, Alastor. You always know what I need."  
  
"You're welcome, Poppy." He tilted her chin up and kissed her tenderly, gently. She moaned and melted into the kiss, her arms sliding around his neck. Before it could go too far, he pulled back. Both were breathing raggedly and looking a bit flushed. "Now, what was it you wished to talk about?"  
  
She sighed and cuddled against him. "Our wedding."  
  
"Our wedding?" he repeated, surprised. "What about it?"  
  
She picked up his left hand between both of hers and began playing with the fingers. "I don't want to wait until November. Not since all those Death Eaters managed to escape Azkaban." She sat up and her brown eyes sought his anxiously. "I don't want to risk losing you before we have a chance to be married."  
  
He nodded slowly. "I see your point."  
  
"So, did you want to move the wedding date up?" she asked anxiously, biting her lip.  
  
"Yes, I think it'd be best if we did," he agreed, sliding his free arm around her waist. "I don't want to lose you, either." She sighed and settled into his embrace. "What date did we want to change it to?"  
  
"How does this Saturday sound to you?" she asked, her head tucked under his chin.  
  
"That's the seventh, isn't it?" She nodded. "I don't have any problems with it."  
  
She sighed again. "Well, we'll have to let the others know."  
  
He nodded. "Yes, but we don't have to inform them right this second, do we?"  
  
She sat up and studied him for a moment before smiling and kissing him. It was a long time before either of them felt like going anywhere.  
  
* * *  
  
Tracey had Friday afternoon free from teaching classes, marking homework, or observing classes, so she decided to head down to the Quidditch pitch and see if Xiomara could help her with her flying. As she approached the pitch, she noticed an unfamiliar man talking with the flight instructor. He was a few inches taller than Xiomara, with tousled sandy brown hair. A charcoal gray cloak fluttered in the slight breeze. Xiomara was gesturing broadly with her hands and the faint sound of laughter reached Tracey's ears. As she drew closer to the pair, Tracey called out, "Hello, Xiomara!"  
  
The man turned at the sound of her voice and blue-gray eyes met her blue ones. She swallowed against the sudden dryness of her throat. Xiomara looked around the man and smiled at Tracey. "Ah, Tracey, hello! I'd like you to meet my brother, Griffith." She indicated the man. "Griffith, this lovely lady is the assistant Transfiguration professor, Tracey Cooper."  
  
"Hello, Mr. Hooch," Tracey greeted him, cursing the breathy sound of her voice. "I've heard a great deal about you from Xiomara."  
  
"Hello, Miss Cooper," he returned the greeting, taking her hand and, instead of shaking it, kissed the back of it. "Nothing bad, I hope?"  
  
Tracey smiled, trying to ignore the way her arm tingled from the where his lips had barely brushed her skin. "Well, I seem to recall something about not contacting her once in the last five years."  
  
He glanced at his sister as he released Tracey's hand. "I'm sorry about that, Mara, but I already explained why I didn't contact you."  
  
Xiomara nodded, making a face at the nickname. "Yes, you did, but _something_ to indicate you hadn't died would have been nice."  
  
Griffith sighed and shook his head. "I did the best I could, Ro, and I have no other excuse."  
  
"Ro?" Tracey asked, raising an eyebrow. "Am I missing something?"  
  
Griffith smiled down at her. "Xiomara's middle name is Rolanda, so I call her Ro for short because she doesn't like it when I call her Xio or 'Mara."  
  
"Oh." Tracey nodded. "That makes sense."  
  
"So, what brings you down here, Tracey?" Xiomara asked.  
  
"Oh, I was, um, hoping to practice flying," Tracey explained, feeling her cheeks grow warm, acutely aware of Griffith's keen gaze.  
  
"How old are you, Miss Cooper?" Griffith asked curiously.  
  
"It's not polite to ask a lady for her age," Tracey retorted tartly, avoiding the question.  
  
"I'll explain later, Griffith," Xiomara added before turning back to the younger witch. "Well, let's see if we can get you up to twenty-five feet. How does that sound?"  
  
Tracey fought the urge to begin playing with a lock of hair, as was her wont when she was nervous. "That sounds fine."  
  
"Alright, you know where the brooms are kept," Xiomara nodded in the direction of the broomshed. Tracey nodded and headed in that direction.  
  
After a flying lesson that went better than usual, Xiomara and Tracey walked back up to the castle together. "Why did your brother show up all of a sudden, Xiomara?"  
  
Xiomara sighed. "Well, you know that Poppy and Alastor are engaged, of course."  
  
Tracey nodded. "Yeah, Poppy told me last Saturday."  
  
"Well, due to the Death Eaters breaking out of Azkaban earlier this week, they decided not to wait any longer and changed their wedding date from November to tomorrow," Xiomara explained. "Alastor wrote to Griffith to ask him to be at the wedding and, well, you can guess the rest."  
  
Tracey nodded again as they began climbing the front steps. "He agreed and arrived here earlier today?"  
  
Xiomara nodded in confirmation. "I was so surprised when I turned around and there he was." She sighed. "Not a word for five bloody years, and then he shows up without a warning."  
  
"Well, why did he disappear in the first place?" Tracey asked as they climbed the marble stairs. "Not that that's my business or anything, but I'm just curious."  
  
"No, it's alright," Xiomara told the smaller witch. "Our mom died about five years ago and I'm afraid he took her death pretty hard. To deal with it, he packed up and left for America. About three days after he disappeared, I got a note from him assuring me that he was alright, but that he had to work some things out on his own."  
  
"Oh." Tracey looked down. "Um, am I invited to the wedding?"  
  
Xiomara shrugged. "I don't see why not. All of the staff is invited and you're part of the staff."  
  
"Oh, right." Tracey blushed. "Hadn't thought of that."  
  
Xiomara grinned. "Happens to the best of us."  
  
Tracey glared at her. "If you'll excuse me, I need to go tidy up for dinner."  
  
"Need to primp for Griffith, right?" Xiomara asked with a wink.  
  
"Oh shut up." Tracey's blush deepened as she started for her rooms.  
  
* * *  
  
"The fool," he hissed. "He'ss jusst made thingss eassier for uss."  
  
"You don't make any more moves without consulting me first, you got it?" his partner demanded, fury evident in face and voice. "You could be getting in _my_ way if you do."  
  
"As you wish," he replied, bowing his head in mock-submission, "but, I warn you, my patience is already thin."  
  
His partner nodded. "You make do what you wish tomorrow. Nothing would affect my plans."  
  
"Good." His lips twitched into an evil smirk. "Goo-ood. Wormtail!" 


	10. The Wedding

Out of the Clear Blue Sky  
  
Chapter Ten - A Wedding  
  
A/N: I'm sorry this took so long! I had a severe case of writer's block regarding this story, which wasn't helped by all the other fic ideas I was getting. Here it is, though, at last.  
  
"You may kiss the bride." Tracey smiled as Alastor Moody and Poppy Pomfrey shared their first kiss as man and wife. Poppy's face shone with her love for him and he didn't look quite so intimidating when he gazed upon his new wife.  
  
When Alastor and Poppy turned to their guests, they were practically mobbed. Xiomara and Griffith led the charge, congratulating the newlywed pair. Minerva and Sylvia weren't far behind. Others followed, milling around the small courtyard as tables of refreshments appeared, courtesy of the house-elves. Tracey hung back, waiting to congratulate them. Finally, everyone else in attendance had congratulated the couple, so Tracey stepped forward. "Congratulations, Poppy, Mr. Moody."  
  
Poppy smiled and hugged the smaller witch. "Thank you, Tracey."  
  
Alastor's hand, though callused and scarred, shook hers firmly. "You may call me Alastor if you wish, Miss Cooper."  
  
"Only if you'll call me Tracey," she countered, smiling up at him.  
  
His smile broadened. "Deal."  
  
Tracey excused herself and wandered over to one of the refreshment tables. Nearby, Xiomara and Griffith sounded like they were having a heated debate. "I don't like him, Ro, not one bit."  
  
"Well, that doesn't matter, Griffith," Xiomara hissed at him, yellow eyes flashing. "You haven't been here for the last five years, so it's really none of your business."  
  
He winced as if she had struck him. "Do you _have_ to keep bringing that up? I said I was sorry, what more do you want?"  
  
She turned away from him, folding her arms tightly across her chest. "Griffith, I wish we could go back to the way things were five years ago, but we've both changed. You weren't there when I needed you. He was. What more can I say?"  
  
Tracey quietly slipped away. "Ah, Tracey, how are you?"  
  
She smiled up at her father. "Just fine, Professor."  
  
He studied her face for a moment. "Are you sure?"  
  
She nodded. "Yes, Professor."  
  
He opened his mouth to reply, but a commotion near the newlyweds distracted them. Turning, Tracey was surprised to see Severus Snape and Griffith Hooch with their wands drawn, facing each other down, much as she imagined Severus and Sirius had not long ago. Xiomara was standing between the two and looking furious. "Will you two just stop it? This is NOT the time or place for this!"  
  
Albus stepped forward, his face and voice grave. "Griffith, Severus, Xiomara, all three of you, please come with me."  
  
Eyeing each other warily, both men lowered their wands and followed Albus out of the courtyard. Xiomara stalked after them, stiff-legged, and her jaw set. Poppy and Alastor followed their progress with worried eyes. Minerva walked over to them and engaged them in a quiet conversation. The happy atmosphere now spoiled, the guests began to leave. Tracey sighed and, casting a glance back at the newlyweds, left as well. She was not prepared to be snatched and have a sack thrown over her head.  
  
* * *  
  
"I'm surprised at you, Severus," Albus began once all four of them were in his office. "You know better than the rest of us how important it is to enjoy what happiness we can at this time." The Potions Master said nothing, meeting the Headmaster's gaze without flinching. Albus turned to the other culprit. "Griffith, whatever possessed you to confront Severus? And during a wedding, too!"  
  
Griffith's blue-gray eyes were flashing. "He's seduced my sister, Sir."  
  
"He did not, Griffith!" Xiomara exploded angrily. "How many times do I have to tell you?"  
  
Albus held up a hand. "Xiomara, please." Glaring at her brother, Xiomara stalked over to stand beside Severus' chair, a small hand on his shoulder. "Griffith, I have long been aware of their relationship and the...unusual circumstances surrounding it. As long as it does not interfere with their abilities to perform their duties as Potions Master and Flight Instructor, I will not interfere. I ask that you refrain from interfering as well."  
  
Griffith surged up from his chair. "Headmaster, he is a Death Eater. How can you trust him?"  
  
"I am no longer a Death Eater," Severus quietly informed the other man, rising from his chair as well. "I turned my back on Voldemort a long time ago, Hooch."  
  
Albus glanced at Severus before adding, "At my request, he has been reporting on Voldemort's activities to me."  
  
Xiomara stepped forward and grasped her brother's hands. "Griffith, please, don't be like this. If anyone has a right to be protective of me, it is Alastor. As it is, he isn't. He understands. Please, try to understand. I don't want to lose contact with you for another five years."  
  
Griffith's gaze was sad when he met Xiomara's. "I'm sorry, Xiomara."  
  
She watched, tears welling in her eyes, as he quietly turned and left. Severus grasped her shoulders and she blindly turned to him, burying her face in the front of his robes. "Oh, Sev."  
  
Nodding to Albus, Severus gently guided the flight instructor out of the office. After they were gone, Albus sank heavily into his chair. The day that had started so happily was rapidly going downhill. And it wasn't even half over.  
  
* * *  
  
Minerva frowned as she walked through the corridors. Something wasn't right. Turning a corner, she nearly ran into Sarai. "Sorry, Aunt Minerva."  
  
"It's alright, Sarai," Minerva replied. She took a closer look at her niece's face. "Is something wrong?"  
  
"I can't find Tracey," Sarai explained. "I saw her leave the courtyard, but that was several hours ago."  
  
Minerva frowned. "I saw her leave as well. It's not like her to disappear."  
  
"Should we tell the Headmaster?" Sarai asked her aunt.  
  
Minerva nodded. "Yes, he should be made aware of the situation."  
  
They met Albus just outside the stone gargoyle. "Minerva, Sarai," he greeted them, and then noticed their faces. "What's wrong?"  
  
Sarai nodded at Minerva. "Miss Cooper is missing, Albus. She left the wedding reception, but I have not seen her since."  
  
"Neither have I," Sarai volunteered, "and neither has anyone else I've asked."  
  
The grave look on Albus' face turned to one of almost panic, but only Minerva was able to read it, having worked with him for so long. Withdrawing his wand, he cast a Locator spell. It came back negative. "Either she doesn't want to be found, or someone doesn't want her to be found."  
  
Minerva frowned. "What should we do, Albus?"  
  
"Look for her, of course," he replied, stowing his wand in his robes. "We shall have to split up." He looked at Minerva. "I take it Poppy and Alastor are no longer here?"  
  
Minerva raised an eyebrow at him. "Once the last of their guests were gone, they left as well."  
  
Albus nodded. "I thought as much. Sarai, search the grounds." The youngest of the three nodded and left at a brisk pace. "Minerva, search the lower floors of the castle."  
  
"Where will you search, Albus?" Minerva asked.  
  
"I shall search the upper floors," he told her. Minerva nodded and left. Sighing, Albus started searching for his daughter. "Tracey, where are you?"  
  
* * *  
  
The young lady in question was struggling furiously in her captor's grasp. The cloth was pressed against her mouth, so the sounds she made were muffled. "Calm down," her captor's voice was, surprisingly, low and melodious. "I'm not going to hurt you." She struggled even harder, not believing him. They stopped moving and she was set on her feet. The moment the sack was removed from her head, she tried to bolt, but a leash-type spell yanked her back to her captor. Wincing, she finally looked up at the person who'd kidnapped her.  
  
Her eyes widened. He was a foot taller than she was and gaunt, with shaggy unwashed tawny hair and haunted blue eyes. His robes were ragged and filthy. "Are you Stewart Pomfrey?"  
  
He blinked and stared down at her. "Who?"  
  
"Stewart Pomfrey," she clarified, studying his face closely. "Poppy Pomfrey's older brother."  
  
He gazed down at her blankly for a moment before lifting his gaze and staring in the direction they'd come. "I...can't remember."  
  
Tracey watched him for a moment. She was sure he would be quite handsome once he was cleaned up and filled out a little. "Do you remember anything?"  
  
"I remember Hogwarts," he admitted, "and a man who is like a brother, but isn't. Two, actually: one older, one younger."  
  
Tracey thought for a moment before she figured out whom he meant. "Griffith Hooch and Alastor Moody."  
  
He blinked again. "Hooch..." his voice trailed off. "...Ro."  
  
She stared at him, confused for a moment. "Oh! Xiomara."  
  
He nodded, staring into the distance. "Yes, 'Mara."  
  
"Why did you kidnap me?" she asked him after a long moment.  
  
The haunted gaze came back down to her. "To bring them to me, to my territory."  
  
"Why?" she asked, puzzled. "Why not just ask to speak with Dumbledore?"  
  
"Because bringing them to me is an advantage," he explained patiently. "I know my territory, they don't."  
  
"Hagrid knows the Forbidden Forest better than anyone," she rejoined. "What do you want, anyway?"  
  
"I want my life." His eyes became angry. "I can only remember bits and pieces of my life before I was kidnapped."  
  
"Kidnapped?" she asked, startled. "Poppy said you were reported dead."  
  
He snorted. "Probably because they never found my body."  
  
Tracey nodded. "Yes. From the amount of blood and the lack of a body, they could only assume you were dead."  
  
He sighed. "Great." He rubbed his face with a hand. "It doesn't mean I can just waltz back into Hogwarts."  
  
"You're not guilty of anything except being dead, Stewart," Tracey countered. "The worse that would happen is that Poppy would Bat Bogey Hex you real good."  
  
He blinked down at her a third time, and then winced. "I remember a few that were rather...unpleasant."  
  
Tracey couldn't help herself. She giggled. He stared at her for a moment before a grin spread across his face. Eventually, she managed to calm down. "Please, Stewart? I'm sure Poppy would love to know you're alive after all. And Alastor, Griffith, and 'Mara."  
  
He studied her for a long moment before nodding. "Very well. We shall go to Hogwarts."  
  
* * *  
  
Minerva was just descending the marble staircase leading up from the entrance hall when the oak front doors swung open to reveal two figures silhouetted by the bright day outside. One was tall and thin, the other was small and slender. "Who are you?"  
  
"Relax, Professor," the first voice was that of Tracey Cooper, sending a flood of relief through the Deputy Headmistress. "It's just me."  
  
"Miss Cooper?" Minerva asked, descending the stairs the rest of the way as the oak doors swung shut behind the two, allowing her to see both. The hand on the banister suddenly tightened around it, her other hand coming up to cover her heart. "Stewart? Stewart Pomfrey?"  
  
He stared at her blankly before drawing in a sharp breath. "Min."  
  
She blinked back tears as she nodded, not trusting her legs to carry her the remaining distance between them. "You're supposed to be dead."  
  
Remaining by the doors, he shook his head. "I'm certainly not dead, although my memories are shot to hell. I can only remember bits and pieces."  
  
"It's rather obvious that you are _not_ dead, Stewart Pomfrey." Minerva's composure was slowly returning and she crossed the entrance hall to the older man. "_How_ did you manage to survive?"  
  
"I'd like to see Poppy first," he replied, looking around. "Where is she?"  
  
"On her honeymoon," Minerva told him.  
  
"Honeymoon?" he asked. "It's taken her this long to marry Alastor?"  
  
Minerva smiled slightly. "Yes, it has."  
  
He sighed. "Can I at least get cleaned up?"  
  
Minerva nodded. "You'll need to speak with Albus first."  
  
"Oh." He blinked. "Right. Well, lead the way."  
  
"Miss Cooper, could you please come with us?" Minerva asked.  
  
"Of course, Professor."  
  
* * *  
  
Albus shut the classroom door behind more forcefully than he intended, but he had a good reason. His daughter was missing and he was no closer to finding her than he had been when he began his search several hours ago. "Albus."  
  
He turned to see Minerva hurrying toward him, Tracey in tow, and a young man who was supposed to be dead. "Stewart?"  
  
When the three came to a stop in front of the Headmaster, Stewart nodded. "Yes, Professor. I didn't die, I was kidnapped."  
  
"Does anyone else know?" he asked, looking from one face to the next, hiding his relief that his daughter was safe.  
  
Minerva shook her head. "No, we didn't see anyone on our way to see you. Not even Xiomara or Griffith."  
  
"I'm afraid that's because Griffith has already left," Albus informed them.  
  
"Why?" Stewart asked, puzzled.  
  
Albus sighed. "He doesn't approve of the man Xiomara is currently dating."  
  
Stewart staggered, shock registering on his face. He slowly slumped to the floor in a dead faint. "Stewart!"  
  
"Why would Xiomara dating another man upset him, Professor?" Tracey asked Minerva as the older witch conjured a stretcher and levitated Stewart onto it.  
  
"Because Stewart has a crush on Xiomara," Minerva explained as they started towards the hospital wing.  
  
Tracey glanced at her father. "Mr. Hooch doesn't approve of Professor Snape?"  
  
Albus shook his head. "I'm afraid not. From what I understand, she has lost contact with him once again."  
  
A determined look appeared on her face. "Excuse me, I have a letter to write."  
  
She left. Albus looked at Minerva. "What was that all about?"  
  
Minerva shrugged. "I have no idea, Albus." 


	11. Back From The Dead

Out of the Clear Blue Sky  
  
Chapter Eleven - Back From The Dead  
  
A/N: Here we are. Some events from the last chapter have unexpected consequences.  
  
When Minerva knocked on Xiomara's door an hour later, she wasn't surprised when Severus was the one who answered it, dressed only in his trousers. "Yes, Minerva?"  
  
"Is Xiomara awake?" Minerva asked, sweeping past the Potions Master into the sitting room.  
  
Severus nodded and disappeared into the bedroom without a word. A few moments later, Xiomara appeared, wearing the shirt Severus had been wearing earlier. "Min? What is it?"  
  
"There's someone in the hospital wing," Minerva told her friend. "Someone you need to see."  
  
Xiomara eyed Minerva suspiciously, but said nothing as she turned and disappeared into the bedroom once more. When she reappeared, she was fully dressed in her usual robes. "Let's go, Min."  
  
The two witches left Xiomara's quarters and headed to the hospital wing.  
  
* * *  
  
Tracey stormed into her room and slammed the door shut behind her. "I can't believe this!" She stomped over to her desk, dress robes billowing around her. "What right does he have to do that to her?" Yanking off the outer robe, she threw it onto her couch and plopped herself down in her desk chair. She yanked a drawer open and pulled out a stack of parchment, her favorite quill, and a bottle of ink that shimmered in different shades of blue. "He's going to regret this. I'll make sure of it." Dipping her quill into the inkbottle, she began to write, her quill scratching furiously across the parchment.  
  
* * *  
  
Xiomara stopped short in the doorway to the hospital wing, yellow eyes wide. They took in the gaunt man asleep in the bed with Sylvia nearby, and then she spun to face Minerva. "Min, this isn't funny!"  
  
"This isn't a joke, 'Mara," Minerva answered quietly, turning the smaller witch and pushing her towards the bed. "That's really Stewart."  
  
"Stewart is dead!" Xiomara hissed, digging her heels in. "He died years ago."  
  
"No, 'Mara." The voice was weak and hoarse, but recognizable all the same. "I'm very much alive."  
  
A choked sob escaping her, Xiomara ran from the hospital wing. Minerva sighed and a silver streak wasn't far behind the flight instructor. Xiomara stumbled to a stop several floors down, heaving with sobs. A silver tabby approached silently and tentatively rubbed her head against the petite witch's side. She sniffled when she realized who it was. Her voice was tortured when she spoke, "Min, do have any idea what this is doing to me?"  
  
The Transfiguration instructor took the cat's place at Xiomara's side, angular features sympathetic. "No, 'Mara, I don't, but you need to talk with Stewart."  
  
"About what, Min?" Xiomara demanded, swiping at her tear tracks with the heel of her hand. "I moved on. Has he?"  
  
Minerva shook her head sadly. "No, he hasn't, but you two need to work through this."  
  
Xiomara glared at her friend through her tears. "Min, I can't."  
  
Minerva gripped her friend's shoulders. "'Mara, the longer you put it off, the harder it's going to be."  
  
"What about Sev?" Xiomara demanded, her tears forgotten. "What's he going to think?"  
  
"He's going to know that this is a necessity." The calm, silky soft voice made both women turn. Xiomara sprang to her feet and rushed into the ebony- clad Potions Master's arms. He gathered her close as she buried her face in the front of his robes. "Xio, you must speak with Stewart. Otherwise, nothing will be resolved between the two of you."  
  
* * *  
  
Albus knocked on the door to his daughter's rooms. After a moment, she bade him enter and he did so, opening the door just enough to slip inside. Closing the door behind him, he looked around. The sitting room now reflected the tastes of the assistant Transfiguration professor, who happened to be sitting in front of the fire. The outer robe she'd worn to the wedding was draped over the back of the sofa and her shoes lay haphazardly on the floor by the desk. "Tracey?"  
  
She looked up from the fire and, for a moment, Albus thought there were flames in her bright blue eyes, but then he realized that she wasn't wearing her glasses and the fire was reflected in her eyes. "Hello, Father."  
  
He indicated the sofa. "May I sit?"  
  
She nodded, her knees drawn up to her chest. "Sure."  
  
He sat down beside her on the sofa. "Minerva and Sarai said they couldn't find you for several hours. What happened?"  
  
Tracey sighed, wrapping her arms around her legs. "I left the reception not long after you, 'Mara, Professor Snape, and Griffith did. I didn't get far before a sack was thrown over my head and carried off. My kidnapper turned out to be Poppy's brother. He originally intended to lure you to him, but I managed to convince him to come to Hogwarts instead."  
  
"That was good thinking on your part, Tracey," he told her quietly. "Although I doubt Stewart would have truly wished to hurt you."  
  
She nodded quietly. "I understand that, but I couldn't be sure."  
  
He nodded in response. "Yes, you're remarkably level-headed, Tracey."  
  
She blushed, ducking her head. "Thank you, Father."  
  
"There's no need for thanks, Tracey," he told her softly. "It's true."  
  
She shrugged. "Not if you saw the letter I just wrote to Griffith."  
  
"Oh?" He raised an eyebrow and gazed at her over the tops of his half-moon spectacles. "What do you mean?"  
  
"Let's just say I didn't keep a cool head when I wrote it," she admitted softly, her flush of embarrassment deepening.  
  
"Ah." He nodded in response. "I understand."  
  
* * *  
  
"Stewart?"  
  
His blue eyes snapped open and he smiled when he saw who had addressed him. "Ro, Hi." His gaze moved to the man standing at her shoulder. "Severus."  
  
"Stewart." Severus inclined his head in acknowledgement. "It is good to see that you are not dead after all."  
  
"Thank you." Stewart's gaze moved back to the petite flight instructor. "Ro? We need to talk. In private."  
  
She nodded and glanced up at the dark-haired Potions Master. "Sev?"  
  
He nodded in response, squeezing her shoulder before turning and leaving. Stewart watched him go thoughtfully. "I take it you're dating Severus?"  
  
She looked at him, startled. "How did you guess?"  
  
"Albus said something about Griffith not approving the man you're dating right now," Stewart explained softly, the thought of Xiomara with another man causing a pang in the vicinity of his heart. "Judging by his actions, I'd say Severus is the lucky man."  
  
Xiomara nodded, biting her lip. "Yes, he is. I wish it was you, but, well, you were dead."  
  
Stewart nodded back, feeling the backs of his eyes burn from unshed tears. "I understand." He took a deep breath and, every word hurting him, said, "If he makes you happy, Ro, then I won't get in your way."  
  
She stared at him, wide-eyed. "Do you really mean that, Stew?"  
  
He nodded, his heart aching. "Yes, I do, Ro. I just want you to be happy. Even if that means another man is the lucky one."  
  
She nodded slowly. "Alright, but _we'll_ still be friends, won't we?"  
  
"Of course." He reached out and grasped her hand in his. "If I can't have your love, then I'll be content with your friendship."  
  
"Thank you, Stew. That means a lot to me." She leaned forward and hugged him.  
  
He returned the hug. When she had reseated herself, he made himself comfortable in the bed. "So, tell me all about what I've missed."  
  
Nodding, Xiomara began to talk.  
  
* * *  
  
Griffith Hooch sat in front of the fire, brooding. How could his sister do this to him? How could she stand up for that greasy-haired bastard? A tapping sound at the window distracted him. Getting up, he stumbled over to the window and peered out into the twilight. An owl was perched on the sill, an envelope in its beak. He groaned and opened the window to let the owl in. It dropped the envelope into his outstretched hand and swooped over to perch on the arm of the couch.  
  
Not even bothering to look at who'd sent the letter, he walked over to the fireplace to destroy the letter. Before he could toss it into the fire, the owl rose with a screech and began flapping around his head. Griffith stumbled back and landed in an ungainly heap on the couch. Satisfied, the owl returned to the arm of the couch.  
  
"Stupid bird," he muttered, glaring at the owl as he sorted himself out. The owl watch with calm amber eyes as he rose unsteadily to his feet. When he made to the throw the letter into the fire, the owl again backed him away from the fireplace.  
  
"Alright, alright," he growled, pushing himself into a sitting position. "I'll read the bloody letter."  
  
He opened the envelope and extracted the letter within.  
  
_Griffith Hooch,  
  
You are a bloody idiot! Do you have any idea how much you're hurting your sister? You've been gone five years, things won't be the same. If Professor Snape makes her happy, then don't get in the way! She wants you to be happy for her, even if you don't approve of the man. Please, Griffith, don't do this to her.  
  
Oh, something else you might want to know: Stewart Pomfrey is *not* dead. He's alive and in the hospital wing right now. I'm not sure who'll be keeping an eye on him, since Poppy is on her honeymoon, but I'm sure there'll be someone there.  
  
Sincerely, Tracey Cooper._  
  
* * *  
  
Stewart stared at her with wide eyes. "Albus said you were _dating_ him."  
  
Xiomara sighed. "Dumbledore is the only other one who knows, Stew; no one else does. He's agreed to keep our secret for now. I hope we can trust you to keep quiet about this?"  
  
Stewart nodded. "Yes, you can. Am I the first you've told?"  
  
Xiomara blushed and nodded. "Yes. Well, aside from Dumbledore and Alastor. They were the only other ones there."  
  
Stewart sighed. "I wish you both the best of luck."  
  
"Thank you, Stew." She leaned forward and hugged him.  
  
"You're welcome, Ro." He returned the hug gladly, wondering when his heart would stop hurting.  
  
* * *  
  
When he entered his office, Albus was surprised to find Minerva McGonagall waiting for him. "Minerva."  
  
"Albus," she returned the greeting, standing by his desk. "Did you speak with Miss Cooper?"  
  
He nodded tiredly. "Did you speak with Xiomara?"  
  
She nodded in return, studying him closely. "Is something wrong, Albus?"  
  
He sighed and gestured to the door to his private study. Without a word, she preceded him into it and to the squashy armchairs placed in front of the already-roaring fire. Once she had seated herself, he sat down as well. After a long moment, he spoke. "I had not expected fatherhood to be so draining, my dear."  
  
Minerva looked surprised. "How do you mean, Albus?"  
  
"When I thought I might lose Tracey, I was filled with a fear I had not expected," he explained softly, gazing into the fire. "It was almost as if someone had wrenched my heart out of my chest."  
  
Minerva listened silently, feeling as if someone had stabbed a knife into her chest and was now twisting it. With difficulty, she, too, spoke. "It means you truly care for her, Albus. You are acting much as my father would."  
  
"Yes," Albus agreed. "I remember." He shook himself and turned to Minerva. "How did your talk with Xiomara go?"  
  
"She is speaking with Stewart even now," Minerva reported, glad for the distraction. "Although I fear he will be hurt no matter how gentle she is."  
  
Albus nodded, picturing himself in a similar situation. "I imagine he would." She eyed him curiously, but said nothing. "How about a game of chess, my dear?"  
  
"That sounds perfect."  
  
* * *  
  
Stewart waited until the door to the hospital wing had swung shut behind Xiomara before burying his face in his hands and letting the tears he'd been holding back flow. Though he sat silent and still, the tears flowed down his gaunt face nonetheless. When a hand touched his shoulder, he jumped and looked up, to meet a pair of clear blue eyes. They held sympathy, but not pity. He buried his face in Sylvia's shoulder and she held him as his tears continued to flow. He didn't see the pain etched on her face as she held him. If he had, he would have wondered if more than one of his sister's friends had had crushes on him.  
  
* * *  
  
Poppy woke to sunlight streaming into the cottage. She frowned for a moment, disoriented, before the warmth at her back and the weight of her husband's (such a wonderful word!) arm around her waist. Turning in his arms, she studied his sleeping face. Though seamed with scars now, she still remembered how it had looked when they'd gone to school together. He'd been a rather handsome boy and had grown into a handsome man. She wouldn't deny that the scars had detracted from his physical good looks, but now she only saw the handsome soul beneath. The gentle, caring soul that had yearned for the care and love his family had never given him. The soul that hid behind a wall of gruffness. The soul that she'd fallen in love with all those years ago.  
  
As she gazed upon him, he stirred and murmured something in his sleep. It almost sounded like her name. She smiled to herself and stroked his face. "My own Alastor..."  
  
At her voice, he stirred again and his eyes fluttered open. He smiled when he saw her. "Good morning, my lovely wife..."  
  
She smiled back. "Good morning, my wonderful husband."  
  
When she tilted her head up to kiss him, he pulled her close and deepened it. She moaned into his mouth, her arms sliding around him to hold him close. He groaned at her touch, ending the kiss to begin pressing kisses to her forehead and cheeks. She caressed his back as she accepted his kisses, her fingers running easily over the numerous scars. It was a long time before either thought of eating breakfast or even getting up out of bed.  
  
* * *  
  
"Here you are, Stewart," Sylvia smiled as she set the tray of food on his lap. "Breakfast."  
  
"Thank you, Sylvia," he smiled up at the plump witch and began to eat. After a moment, he looked over at the Herbology professor, who'd sat in a chair beside the bed. "Aren't you going to eat?"  
  
She shook her head. "No, I ate in the Great Hall."  
  
He nodded. "Won't you eat a little bit, though? So I won't feel like such a pig?"  
  
She blinked and nodded, a shy smile spreading across her face. "Alright."  
  
He smiled and conjured up a fork for her. She moved from the chair to sit by his knee on the bed so she could reach the food more easily. Together, they made short work of the food and she carried the empty dishes from the room. He sighed and laid back against the pillows. He longed to see his sister and talk with her, but she and her new husband weren't due back at Hogwarts until that evening. It wasn't long until the sleeping draught that had been slipped into his food took effect and put him to sleep.  
  
* * *  
  
Poppy and Alastor were enjoying the afternoon by playing Go Fish when a head appeared in the fireplace. "Albus, what is it?"  
  
"Alastor, Poppy, I'm afraid you need to cut your honeymoon short," Albus told them apologetically. "There's been an attack on Hogsmeade."  
  
Husband and wife exchanged glances. "We'll be there as soon as we can, Albus."  
  
"That's all I ask, Alastor." Albus nodded to both and his head disappeared from the fire.  
  
Poppy was in her husband's arms moments later. "Oh, Alastor, it's just like last time, isn't it?"  
  
"No, Poppy," he answered quietly. "Last time, we weren't prepared. Now, we are."  
  
She nodded and they shared an intense kiss before parting to go and begin packing.  
  
* * *  
  
"I want to help, Dumbledore," Stewart stated stubbornly, upon hearing the news.  
  
"No, Stewart," Albus countered. "You need to remain here in the hospital wing and regain your strength."  
  
"I've done this before," Stewart pointed out, almost desperately. "I have experience."  
  
"Stewart," Minerva stepped in front of her friend and gazed sternly into his eyes. "You are in no condition to help clean up. Stay here and recuperate."  
  
He sighed and threw up his hands, defeated. "Very well, Min. I'll stay."  
  
"Good." She stepped back to stand beside Albus. "We don't know when we'll be back."  
  
Stewart nodded and watched the Headmaster and Deputy Headmistress stride from the hospital wing. Heaving a sigh of frustration, he flopped onto the bed he'd been confined to and stared up at the ceiling. "Hmm, that ceiling really needs a fresco." A sound at the doorway distracted him and he looked over at it. "Hello, Sylvia."  
  
The plump witch smiled and slipped into the room. "Hello, Stew." Entering the hospital wing, she walked over and sat down in a chair beside his bed. "How are you feeling?"  
  
"Aside from frustrated?" he asked. She nodded. "Better, actually. It's nice to have actual food in my stomach."  
  
She smiled softly at that. "Yes, I imagine it would be."  
  
* * *  
  
It was almost dawn by the time Alastor and Poppy returned to Hogwarts from Hogsmeade. The mediwitch was virtually dead on her feet, but still insisted on checking the hospital wing before going to bed. Both froze when they saw the figure sleeping in one of the beds. She approached the bed timidly and touched one of the wasted hands resting on top of the sheet. "Stewart?"  
  
The figure stirred and slowly opened his eyes. He smiled when he saw who stood beside his bed. "Hello, Poppy." His gaze moved to the man standing beside her and his eyes widened. "Alastor?" The retired auror merely nodded, his hand tight around his walking stick.  
  
Poppy was trembling from a combination of fatigue and shock. "Y-you're dead, Stewart. Th-they said you were dead."  
  
"They were wrong," Stewart answered simply. "Look, you're both tired. Why don't you go to bed and we'll talk in the morning?"  
  
Poppy recognized the tone of his voice as being the one that brooked no refusal and nodded, biting her lip against the tears threatening to spill down her cheeks. "Can I have a hug at least?"  
  
He grinned and opened his arms. She fell into them and brother and sister hugged each other tightly, happy tears streaming down both faces.  
  
* * *  
  
Tracey was awakened by a tapping sound on her window. Her father had refused to allow her to go to Hogsmeade and she'd tossed and turned for a couple hours before she finally fell asleep. Dragging herself from the bed, she pulled her dressing gown on and opened the window. Her owl swooped in, dropping a letter into her open hand. "Thank you, Sheila." The owl hooted softly and, nipping Tracey's fingers, swooped back out. Tracey closed the window behind the owl and walked over to the bed. She picked up her glasses and slipped them on before opening the letter.  
  
_Miss Cooper,  
  
What right do you have to write a letter like that? We only met on Friday, for Godric's sake! What I do and who I stay in contact with is *my* business, *not* yours. What do you know about Snape? Nothing, I imagine. You don't know what he's done or where he's been. All you know of him is that he teaches Potions at Hogwarts. Of course I want Ro to be happy. I just don't think she could be happy with Snape. She could do better than *him*.  
  
And what's this nonsense about Stewart? He died in the attack that took Alastor's eye and leg fifteen years ago. Don't play games with me. It won't work.  
  
Cordially, Griffith Hooch_  
  
The redhead snorted. It looked like she had her work cut out for her.  
  
* * *  
  
"Not a bad idea to attack Hogsmeade, but you've made _my_ part that much more difficult."  
  
"You ssaid I wass free to do as I wished," he hissed at his partner. "Sso long as I did nothing on Hallowe'en."  
  
The other sighed. "So I did. Try to think a little more clearly. He's bound to cancel all trips to Hogsmeade after this attack. Security at the castle was tightened after the incident at the Welcome Feast. It would have been easy to attack him if he'd visited Hogsmeade."  
  
"He sstill might," Voldemort countered. "There iss no doubt that he will offer hiss aid with the relief effortss."  
  
A/N2: There will be a Masquerade Ball as a result of the attack on Hogsmeade. I need costume ideas for the staff members. I already know what Alastor, Poppy, and Tracey will go as, but none of the others. Just include your suggestions in your review, please. 


	12. Secrets Uncovered

Out of the Clear Blue Sky  
  
Chapter Twelve - Secrets Uncovered  
  
A/N: At last, we learn what the exact relationship between Severus and Xiomara is.  
  
Griffith groaned when something tapped on his window. Pulling his head out from under the pillow, he looked over at said window. The same owl that had visited him last night waited patiently for him. Growling under his breath, he stalked over to the window and opened it. The owl swooped in and dropped a letter into his hand. He opened it without ceremony.  
  
_Griffith Hooch,  
  
No one else was going to write it. Dumbledore, Professor McGonagall, and Sylvia would all say it's none of their business and Xiomara would be too proud to write it. I realize it's not my business, but I like to think of your sister as my friend and I don't want to see her hurting like this. I spent *years* longing for a brother or sister. I would dearly love to have a brother such as you, but I don't. I know more about Snape than you might think. Unfortunately for you, it looks like she's *very* happy. You might as well get used to it.  
  
Stewart didn't die. I can't explain it all now, but he *is* alive. And I'm not playing games. I don't see the point in doing so.  
  
Cordially, Tracey Cooper._  
  
Griffith snorted, crumpling the letter up into a ball. Without thinking about it, he addressed the owl. "More than I might think, eh? Does she know he was a Death Eater? That he once served the wizard now threatening our world?"  
  
The owl merely hooted, gazing calmly at the wizard.  
  
* * *  
  
"Stew?" He woke to someone shaking him. "C'mon, Stew, wake up."  
  
"Alright, alright, I'm awake," he muttered, opening his eyes. "Oh, good morning, Ro."  
  
She smiled, but it didn't reach her beautiful yellow eyes. "Sev just told me about Hogsmeade. Is it true?"  
  
Stewart nodded. "Yes, unfortunately. Dumbledore even interrupted Poppy and Alastor on their honeymoon."  
  
Xiomara sighed. "Have you had a chance to talk with Poppy yet?"  
  
He shook his head. "No. She and Alastor got back very early this morning and I imagine they're both tired at this point."  
  
"You're probably right," she agreed with a smile. "I'm sure she'll think of me and how your return affects me."  
  
"Of course," he affirmed. "This is Poppy we're talking about."  
  
"True, true," she concurred. "Anyway, if she brings me up, go ahead and tell her about Sev and I."  
  
Stewart stared at her. "Are you certain?"  
  
She nodded soberly. "I'm going to tell Min and Sylvia, but you and Alastor can tell Poppy."  
  
Stewart slowly nodded. "Alright. It's your decision of course. I take it Severus agrees?"  
  
She nodded. "Yes, he does."  
  
With a swish of her dark blue robes, she was gone. Stewart sighed and laid back against his pillows.  
  
* * *  
  
Xiomara was crossing the entrance hall to go to breakfast in the Great Hall when the front doors swung open. She stared at the figure revealed by them. "Griffith?"  
  
He looked angry as the doors shut behind him. "Where is Miss Cooper?"  
  
"At breakfast, I imagine," Xiomara replied, unsure what to make of her brother's unexpected return. "Did you wish to speak with her?" He nodded stiffly. "Won't you eat first?" He shook his head fiercely. Xiomara sighed. "Alright, fine, but we need to talk. Don't you _dare_ leave before we do."  
  
"Alright." He watched as Xiomara slipped into the Great Hall. She trotted up to the Staff Table, where Tracey and Minerva sat on either side of Albus. The Deputy Headmistress was eating steadily, but Albus' daughter was doing little more than playing with her food.  
  
Xiomara leaned over to murmur in Tracey's ear. "My brother is here and wishes to speak with you."  
  
Tracey's head snapped around and her bright blue eyes met Xiomara's yellow ones. "Are you serious, 'Mara?"  
  
The older witch nodded. "He's waiting in the entrance hall."  
  
Tracey nodded and, abandoning her untouched meal, left the Great Hall. Xiomara moved along the table to her seat beside Severus. He leaned over to murmur a question in her ear. She nodded an affirmative as he began serving her.  
  
* * *  
  
Tracey left the Great Hall to find herself almost face to face with a very angry Griffith Hooch. His blue-gray eyes glittered dangerously beneath his sandy brown bangs. "Hello, Mr. Hooch."  
  
"Don't 'hello' me, Miss Cooper," he practically hissed. "What right do you have to poke your nose into other people's business?"  
  
Without a word, she grabbed his hand and dragged him across the entrance hall to the small room in which the first years waited before they were Sorted. Once the door closed behind them, she spun to face him. "As I said in the letter, no one else was going to try to get through to you. 'Mara is too proud to do such a thing. Professor McGonagall and Sylvia would say it's none of their business, as would Poppy. Fa-- Professor Dumbledore would say it is up to you and 'Mara to settle your differences."  
  
His eyes narrowed. "What was it you almost called Dumbledore?"  
  
"That's none of your business," she snapped, bright blue eyes flashing angrily.  
  
He snorted, but let the matter drop for the moment. "So why did you choose to write?"  
  
"Because your refusal to accept Snape as a proper match for your sister hurt 'Mara deeply," Tracey explained, relieved that Griffith hadn't pushed the issue. "And I don't want to see her hurt."  
  
"How can you be sure Snape won't hurt her?" Griffith demanded. "Do you know that he was a Death Eater once? That he once served the Dark Lord?"  
  
"Yes," Tracey retorted angrily. "I do know, but I've also seen how he treats her. He treats her as if she is more precious than gold or jewels. He treats her the way Alastor treats Poppy."  
  
Griffith stared down at the woman before him. As they'd shot the angry words back and forth, they'd moved closer together, until barely inches separated them. Never a tall man, Griffith was a little disconcerted to have to look down at Tracey to meet her gaze, but she seemed unperturbed to have to glare _up_ at him. "What are you saying, Miss Cooper?"  
  
"That you should give this relationship, or understanding, or whatever's between those two a chance," she answered quietly, calmly. "If you don't, you'll hurt Xiomara very much."  
  
He sighed and ran a hand through his hair, wondering why he suddenly found Tracey's mouth to be very kissable. "Alright. I won't interfere with whatever her relationship with Snape is, but I don't make any guarantees."  
  
She smiled up at him. "Thank you, Mr. Hooch."  
  
"Call me Griffith," he replied. "It's a little silly to stick to formality when we've been yelling at each other."  
  
She grinned. "Very well, so long as you call me Tracey."  
  
He nodded and, seized by a sudden impulse, leaned down to press a kiss to her forehead. "Tell Ro I'm ready to talk with her."  
  
Tracey nodded and hastily left the room. She told Xiomara that Griffith was waiting to talk with her and the flight instructor nodded. As she left the Great Hall, she stopped by Minerva and Sylvia's chairs. The two women looked startled, but got up and followed their friend from the Great Hall. They stopped in their tracks when they saw Griffith, but Xiomara crossed the room to face him. "Well?"  
  
"I've decided to give him a chance, Ro," Griffith told her without preamble. Minerva and Sylvia exchanged looks.  
  
"Thank you, Griffith." Xiomara hugged him warmly. He hugged her back. She pulled away and beckoned Minerva and Sylvia over. "There's something about Sev and I that no one except Dumbledore and Alastor know about..."  
  
* * *  
  
"Are you alright, Tracey?" Albus asked his daughter when she resumed her seat.  
  
She nodded. "Yes, Professor. Griffith is making amends with 'Mara."  
  
"Ah." Albus glanced towards the doors. "Because of the letter you wrote to him?"  
  
A red flush suffused her cheeks. "Well, both of them."  
  
"Two?" Albus asked, surprised. Tracey nodded. "Hmm."  
  
She glanced sharply up at her father. "What does that mean?"  
  
"What does what mean?" he asked blandly.  
  
"The 'hmm,'" she explained.  
  
"I don't know what you're talking about," he evaded.  
  
She rolled her eyes. "Never mind."  
  
* * *  
  
"You can't be serious!"  
  
"Do I look like I'm not?" Xiomara demanded. "You can ask Alastor and Dumbledore. They were there."  
  
"Married to the man?" Griffith shot back. "And how long were you lovers before then?"  
  
"A couple years," Xiomara admitted, "but we didn't get married because I ended up pregnant."  
  
"Then why?" Griffith insisted. "Give me one good reason."  
  
"Simple," Xiomara replied with a shrug, "we love each other."  
  
Griffith gaped at her. Minerva took the opportunity to hug her friend. "Congratulations, 'Mara."  
  
"Thanks, Min." Xiomara returned the taller witch's hug.  
  
"Congratulations," Sylvia added, hugging Xiomara as well.  
  
"Thanks, Sylvia." Xiomara returned Sylvia's hug.  
  
They quietly left the room. Griffith was still gaping at his sister. Finally, he spoke. "This is going to take some getting used to."  
  
"I'm sorry to spring it on you this way, but I would have told you on Saturday if you'd been willing to listen." Xiomara was watching him a little nervously.  
  
He sighed and shoved his hand through his hair. "I just need time."  
  
"We don't have much of that," Xiomara told him. "There was an attack on Hogsmeade last night. Sev had to be there, but the worst he did was Stun people. I told Dumbledore as soon as I knew, but the Death Eaters still managed to do a lot of damage. Poppy and Alastor cut their honeymoon short to be there and are probably still asleep."  
  
"What's this about Stew not being dead?" Griffith asked abruptly.  
  
"Where did you hear about him?" Xiomara replied, startled.  
  
"Tracey mentioned he was actually alive," Griffith explained.  
  
Xiomara sighed. "Stew didn't die all those years ago. He was kidnapped and tortured. To prevent his captors from gathering information from him, he buried his memories so deep that even _he_ can't access them. When the people holding him captive were arrested, Stew escaped and made his way to the Forbidden Forest. He lived there for several years before he kidnapped Tracey on Saturday. He only intended to use her to lure us out to the Forbidden Forest so he could talk with us, but she convinced him to actually go to Dumbledore."  
  
A thoughtful look appeared on Griffith's face. "So she can control her temper as well as unleash it."  
  
"I beg your pardon?" Xiomara asked, confused.  
  
He shook his head. "Never mind. Where's Stew now?"  
  
"In the hospital wing," Xiomara told him.  
  
* * *  
  
Minerva's golden spoon rang against her crystal goblet. "Your attention, please?"  
  
All eyes turned to the High Table. Albus stood up. "As many of you have doubtless heard, there was an attack on Hogsmeade last night. Although the Minister insists that the attackers were acting independently, I have reason to believe that they were, indeed, Death Eaters, acting on the orders of Voldemort." A shudder washed over the hall as a whole. "Consequently, Hogsmeade trips have been cancelled for the time being." Students began grumbling amongst themselves. Albus held up his hands for silence. "To make up for that, a Masquerade Ball will be held Hallowe'en night. It is open to students in their fourth year and above. Anyone who attends will be required to wear a costume and mask. Students will not be allowed to have dates to the Ball. At the stroke of midnight, all masks will be removed. I strongly encourage you to participate."  
  
Albus sat down and the students began talking amongst themselves. Minerva leaned in from her seat to speak to Albus. Tracey leaned in to hear Minerva's question. "Albus, does this include staff members?"  
  
He nodded. "Yes, Minerva, it does. In fact, staff members are required to attend." He looked past Minerva and Sarai, to Severus. "No exceptions."  
  
The potions master sighed and nodded to acknowledge Albus' words. Smiling to herself, Tracey returned to her breakfast, contemplating ideas for a costume. In moments, she had hit upon the perfect costume idea.  
  
* * *  
  
When Poppy awoke, she was very glad to be held in Alastor's arms. She'd seen battlefields before, but Alastor's presence had made it easier to handle the blood and gore. Perhaps it was because he was able to replace the nasty images that remained with something beautiful and lovely. With that in mind, she moved closer and kissed him softly. After only a few moments, his arms tightened around her and he deepened the kiss. She moaned into his mouth, her arms circling his neck, slender fingers combing through his grizzled gray mane of hair. It had been a rich mahogany brown before it had turned gray, but he'd always worn it long. Even when wizard fashion dictated otherwise. His arms slid around her waist, pulling her even closer. When his mouth left hers, she made a sound of protest that turned into a moan of pleasure as he began pressing kisses to her throat. She gave herself over to the pleasure being with her husband brought to her and it was a long time before coherent thought returned. "Good morning, Alastor."  
  
He chuckled, his chest shaking beneath her. "Good morning to you, too, Poppy."  
  
She rested her chin on her folded hands. "I could definitely get used to waking up in your arms, Alastor."  
  
"Good," his calloused hands stroked her spine languidly, "because I intend to wake up with you in my arms for many years to come."  
  
She smiled, and then sighed. "I suppose we should get up."  
  
"I suppose you're right." He reluctantly let her get up, admiring her slender figure as she dressed for the day.  
  
She turned her back to him. "Zip me up?"  
  
He reached out and tugged the zipper of her robes up. "I'd rather unzip you, Beloved."  
  
She turned to him with a smile. "As would I, but I really can't stay away too long."  
  
He nodded. "I understand, Poppy." He got up and dressed himself, needing only minimal assistance from his wife. They ate breakfast together before heading down to the hospital wing.  
  
Stewart looked up at the sound of their entrance. "Good morning, Poppy, Alastor."  
  
"You _are_ alive," Poppy commented, a bright smile lighting her face. "I didn't dream it last night."  
  
Stewart smiled as his sister crossed to him and hugged him tightly. "No, you weren't dreaming." He looked at Alastor. "Congratulations on your marriage. I'm surprised it took you two this long."  
  
Alastor smiled slightly and kissed the top of his wife's head while she favored her brother with an annoyed look. "Thank you, Stewart."  
  
"Thank you," Poppy echoed, sitting down in the chair beside his bed. "Now, tell us everything."  
  
A wave of Alastor's wand elongated the chair so he could sit beside Poppy. "Yes, tell us how you managed to escape death."  
  
Stewart spoke quietly, explaining what had happened to him. By the time he'd finished, Poppy was gaping at him and Alastor was looking impressed. "Oh, Stewart, how awful for you."  
  
He shrugged uncomfortably. "It wasn't too bad. I know more about surviving in the forest now."  
  
Poppy raised an eyebrow. "You're practically skin and bones as it is, Stewart. I insist you stay here at Hogwarts until you're in better shape."  
  
He smiled. "Ever the mediwitch, aren't you, Poppy?"  
  
"No," Poppy contradicted, "I'm a sister concerned for her brother's health."  
  
"I've missed you, Poppy," Stewart's voice was choked. "At least, what I remember of you."  
  
Poppy shifted to the bed and hugged her brother once more. "I'll help you get it back, Stewart, I promise."  
  
* * *  
  
"A masquerade ball?" For once, his partner was pleased. "This is a golden opportunity."  
  
"Indeed it iss," he hissed.  
  
"You will do nothing," his partner told him firmly.  
  
They glared at each other for a long moment before he reluctantly dropped his. "Very well."  
  
A/N2: I still need ideas for costumes, although I have most of them figured out. I'd also like ideas for Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny. 


	13. Masquerade

Out of the Clear Blue Sky  
  
Chapter Thirteen - Masquerade  
  
A/N: Sorry it took so long. I couldn't think of a way to handle the Ball and I have schoolwork to do now. Anyway, here it is and probably not what you were expecting. *wink*  
  
"A Masquerade Ball?" Alastor Moody demanded upon hearing the news. "Doesn't he realize he's inviting trouble?"  
  
"Alastor, calm down," Poppy told her new husband, placing her hands on his shoulders. "You're not doing yourself any favors getting worked up like this."  
  
"I can't help it, Poppy," he replied, resuming his seat on the couch and stretching his wooden leg out in front of him with a half-stifled sigh. "I can't believe Albus would do such a thing."  
  
"He has his reasons, I'm sure," she answered soothingly, sitting down beside him.  
  
He looked down at her and his face softened. He still had trouble believing this woman--this wonderful, beautiful woman--wanted to share her life with him. He raised one scarred hand and cupped her face with it. "I know, but requiring everyone to wear masks doesn't make my job easier."  
  
She leaned into his caress, her slender hand rising to cover his. "Albus told me that you're not to use your magical eye to look through masks, because that would ruin the fun of the Ball."  
  
He made a growl of frustration. "I'm beginning to think he wants to make this as hard on me as possible. Besides, what if I accidentally do?"  
  
"I've thought of costumes for us that will prevent that," she informed him with a smile. "And account for your wooden leg."  
  
"Oh?" He looked at her questioningly. "What is it?" She whispered in his ear. "Not a bad idea. Not a bad one at all."  
  
She smiled. "Does that mean you agree?"  
  
He nodded. "Yes, it does."  
  
Still smiling, she leaned forward to kiss him. Gathering her close, he deepened the kiss.  
  
* * *  
  
"Minerva?" She blinked and looked at the man sitting across from her.  
  
"Yes, Albus?" she asked, glancing briefly at the young woman seated nearby. Tracey was lost in thought, gazing absently into the fire.  
  
"Are you alright?" he asked her, concerned, bright blue eyes gazing into her dark green ones.  
  
She nodded, a little puzzled by the question. "Yes, of course. Why wouldn't I be?"  
  
"It's been your move for 15 minutes and you haven't done a thing," he told her quietly.  
  
"Oh." She looked down at the board, beginning to contemplate her next move.  
  
A sudden move nearby startled both of them and they looked to see Tracey standing and stretching. "Off to bed, Tracey?"  
  
The young witch nodded, stifling a yawn. "Yes, Father. Good night."  
  
"Good night, Tracey," he replied as she leaned over and kissed his whiskered cheek.  
  
Tracey turned to Minerva. "Good night, Professor."  
  
"Good night, Miss Cooper," Minerva replied as Tracey headed for the door and turned her attention back to the game. She was still mulling over her next move when Albus cleared his throat. "I wonder, Albus, how you expect me to make my move when you interrupt me?"  
  
He waited until she'd ordered her knight to a square from which one of Albus' rooks and a bishop were threatened before speaking. "I was wondering if you've given any thought to the Masquerade Ball, my dear?"  
  
She stifled a groan of annoyance. "Is there a reason you asked?"  
  
"Well, staff members may attend with other staff members if they wish," he explained a little hesitantly, "and I was wondering if I may escort you."  
  
She stared at him, wondering if he could hear how her heart had begun to pound in her chest. "You wish to escort me to the Masquerade Ball?"  
  
He nodded, no sign of a twinkle in his eyes. In fact, he looked almost nervous. "Yes, I do."  
  
She considered it for a moment. "Why not escort Miss Cooper? She's your daughter."  
  
"I'm asking _you_, Minerva," he told her gently. "Not Tracey."  
  
She slowly nodded. "Very well, you may escort me."  
  
"Excellent," he smiled, the twinkle reappearing in his eyes. "And I know just the costumes for us."  
  
"Oh?" She raised an eyebrow. "What might they be?"  
  
He shook his head. "You'll find out a week before the Ball and no sooner."  
  
She sighed. "Couldn't you give me a hint?"  
  
He shook his head again. "Not a one. You'll have to wait."  
  
She made a noise of frustration. He chuckled and made his move. Several minutes later, he'd won, for once.  
  
* * *  
  
"Xio, _must_ I wear this?" he asked, a little plaintively, tugging at the hem of his tunic.  
  
"Yes, Sev," she answered patiently, adjusting her mask. "You must."  
  
"Why must I?" he demanded, giving up on the tunic and reaching up to adjust his mask.  
  
"Because I say so," she retorted with a grin, tweaking his rear.  
  
He jumped and turned to her. "You're enjoying this, aren't you, wench?"  
  
She grinned and nodded. "Yep."  
  
"You realize, of course," he remarked conversationally as he looped his arms around her waist, "that you will pay for this indignity."  
  
"I look forward to it," she purred, standing on tiptoe to kiss him.  
  
After a long moment, he spoke again, his breathing ragged. "You realize we're going to be late, don't you?"  
  
"So?" she asked, kissing his chin. "We'll be fashionably late."  
  
"And there's a difference?" he asked in return, pulling her close.  
  
She nodded, yellow eyes dancing. "There is."  
  
He waited. When she didn't offer further explanation, he sighed. "And I'm guessing you're not going to explain it."  
  
"Right," she answered with a laugh.  
  
"To hell with it," he sighed. "We'll be late."  
  
"Fashionably late," she managed before his mouth covered hers in a hungry kiss.  
  
* * *  
  
Tracey felt as if someone was doing a tap dance on the inside of her skull. Why did she have a headache anyway? There hadn't been any alcohol at the Ball that she knew of. Then she remembered...  
  
_At the stroke of twelve, all the masks had been removed and her eyes had been drawn, almost like a magnet, to the one unfamiliar face. It would have been beautiful if it hadn't been for the anger and hatred etched on it. Unfortunately, no one else seemed to notice her. Ignoring the compliments on her costume (a silver tabby remarkably similar to Professor McGonagall's Animagus form), Tracey wriggled and squirmed her way through the crowd, using her smaller size to her advantage. Catching a glimpse of the woman, Tracey's heart leapt to her throat. The cold eyes were trained on Albus Dumbledore, who was accepting compliments on his Merlin costume. Beside him, Professor McGonagall (dressed as Morgaine La Fey) was also accepting compliments on her costume. Neither of the two seemed to be aware of the danger. No one seemed to realize it, except Tracey. Questions followed in her wake...  
  
"Tracey, what is it? Is something wrong?" That came from Sarai McBride in her eagle costume.  
  
"Tracey, careful, there." Poppy (dressed as a pirate wench to match her husband's pirate costume) sounded surprised.  
  
"Watch it, Tracey." Griffith (dressed as a lion) sounded more amused than angry.  
  
Just as she managed to get past the last of the people separating herself and the stranger, Tracey saw her raise a wand and point it at Albus. "NO!"  
  
Startled, the woman swung around to see Tracey and brought her wand around to point it at the smaller witch. Before she could say a word, Tracey crashed into her, sending them both tumbling to the floor, where Tracey cracked her head hard against it. Dizzy with pain, Tracey was vaguely aware of panicked voices before blackness engulfed her._  
  
She opened her eyes and groaned. "Ow."  
  
"She's awake!" The voice pounded in her brain and she groaned again. "Sorry, Tracey."  
  
"It's alright, Griffith," she told him, turning her head to smile reassuringly at him. He was still wearing his lion costume. She frowned. "How long have I been out?"  
  
"A couple hours," he replied, picking up her hand from where it lay on the bed and squeezed it. "What in the world possessed you to do that?"  
  
Before Tracey could reply, Poppy led Albus, Professor McGonagall, Sarai, and Snape into the room. All except Snape still wore their costumes. The Head of Slytherin was wearing his usual black robes, but Tracey clearly remembered how well he had filled out his Robin Hood costume. "How are you feeling Tracey?"  
  
"Like the fourth day of a three day pass," she told the mediwitch. "At least, what I'd imagine it to be like."  
  
Poppy chuckled as she cast a Diagnostic spell. She immediately sobered at what the spell told her. "I'm afraid that was a rather nasty knock you took to your head. You have a minor concussion and will have to stay awake for a few hours to make sure you didn't do too much damage."  
  
"There's not much to damage anyway," Tracey retorted with a smile. No one else smiled and hers faded. "Oh, never mind."  
  
"May I have a few words with Tracey and Minerva?" Albus requested, standing beside his daughter's bed. His voice was quiet and sober, no sign of the familiar twinkle in his eyes. Professor McGonagall looked at him, startled, but the others agreed, quietly leaving the room. Well, Griffith seemed a bit confused, but a touch on his shoulder from Poppy told him to come away. He was the last to leave, glancing over his shoulder one last time before closing the door behind him. Albus sat down on the bed by Tracey's hip. "Tracey, what did you think you were doing?"  
  
"Saving you, Father," she answered quietly, raising her blue eyes to meet his. "She was going to hurt you and I couldn't let her."  
  
Professor McGonagall looked skeptical. "How could you be sure, Miss Cooper?"  
  
"You didn't see the look on her face, Professor," Tracey answered quietly, moving her gaze to her mentor. "I did. It frightened me, but no one else seemed to see her. I had to do _something_."  
  
He leaned forward and gathered her into a tight hug. "Thank you, Tracey, but please be more careful in the future."  
  
"I will, Father," Tracey assured him, returning his hug. She pulled away and glanced from Albus to Professor McGonagall. "So, what happened to the woman I tackled?" They glanced at each other and Tracey didn't like that look. "What is it?"  
  
Albus sighed and picked up Tracey's hand. "I'm afraid she managed to get away, Tracey."  
  
"What?" Tracey demanded, sitting up too quickly and wincing. "Ow."  
  
"Careful, Tracey," Albus warned, conjuring up two more pillows to pile on top of the one she already had. "And yes, she _did_ get away."  
  
"How?" Tracey asked, leaning back against the pillows.  
  
Minerva sighed. "That we do not know, Miss Cooper. We had only turned away for a moment and, when we turned back, she was gone."  
  
Tracey groaned and flopped her head back on her pillows. "Great."  
  
"It's not a lost cause, Tracey," Albus told her, squeezing her hand. "We have some idea as to who is after me."  
  
"That's _not_ reassuring, Father," Tracey retorted before yawning. "Gosh, I'm tired."  
  
"You can't fall asleep, Miss Cooper," Minerva warned the younger witch, standing at Albus' shoulder. "You heard Poppy."  
  
"But I'm tired," Tracey complained sleepily, her eyes falling closed.  
  
"Minerva, would you mind getting Griffith?" Albus requested, looking up at his Deputy.  
  
She nodded, looking a little puzzled. "Yes, Albus."  
  
Professor McGonagall left. "Father, what are you up to?"  
  
"I am up to nothing, Tracey," he replied, an innocent look on his face. "You need someone to help keep you awake and Griffith is the man for the job."  
  
"There's something more to it, Father," Tracey answered suspiciously. "You're up to something and I want to know what it is."  
  
Before Albus could answer, there was a knock on the door and it opened enough for Griffith to poke his head inside. "Hi, Min said you wanted to see me?"  
  
"Yes, Griffith," Albus replied, having stood up. "Poppy doesn't want Tracey falling asleep and, since you don't seem to have anything else to keep you occupied, I thought you would like to sit with her and keep her awake."  
  
Tracey's eyes widened and she looked to Griffith. To her surprise, his blue- gray eyes were wide as well. He quickly looked at Albus. "With all due respect, Sir, Stew would be the better choice."  
  
"Please, Griffith?" Albus asked quietly.  
  
The younger wizard nodded. "Yes, Sir."  
  
"Thank you." Albus gripped one tawny-colored shoulder before leaving.  
  
* * *  
  
A knock on the door disturbed Minerva as she was reading the next afternoon. "Who is it?"  
  
"It's Tracey, Professor," Tracey's voice replied.  
  
"Come in, Miss Cooper," Minerva answered, setting her book aside. The door opened and the smaller woman slipped inside. She had yet to return to her usual cheerful self since she'd woken up in the hospital wing. Griffith had told Xiomara that, although he and Tracey had talked quite a bit, she had rarely smiled and usually only briefly. Minerva had watched her all day and she'd been rather quiet. She'd said little at mealtimes and had spent the rest of her time in her rooms. Minerva indicated the other armchair. "Have a seat." Tracey crossed the room and sank into the offered chair, no sign of the twinkle that reminded Minerva of Albus in her blue eyes. "Would you like something to drink?"  
  
"No, no thank you." Tracey shook her head. She wore a black dress with an aquamarine robe over it. She'd pulled the sides of her hair back, but the rest spilled in waves down her back and over her shoulders.  
  
"Would you like a biscuit?" Minerva offered. "I have a tin of Ginger Newts around here somewhere."  
  
A faint smile appeared at the corners of Tracey's mouth. "No, thank you."  
  
Minerva gave an exasperated sigh, remaining curled up in her chair. "So, what brings you here?"  
  
"I wanted to know how soon I could begin working on the actual Animagus transformation." Tracey's eyes were serious and intense when they met Minerva's. The firelight glinted on the younger woman's glasses. "After last night, I don't want to wait any longer than I have to."  
  
Minerva nodded, sighed, and stood up to cross to the window. Outside, the sky was a mass of steel gray clouds. Snow had yet to fall, but Herbology and Care of Magical Creatures classes had been rained out several times already and Minerva wouldn't be surprised if there was more rain lurking in the clouds she saw. "I understand your reasoning, Miss Cooper, but the transformation is tricky at best and dangerous at worst. My first instinct is to err on the side of caution and say not yet." she turned from the window to Tracey, whose shoulders had slumped. "However," the younger woman looked up at Minerva hopefully, "given our current circumstances, I feel we cannot wait any longer. Continue your reading, but we will meet once a week to attempt the transformation beginning this Wednesday."  
  
A broad smile appeared and Tracey jumped to her feet, looking more animated that she'd been all day. "Thank you, Professor."  
  
"No thanks are necessary, Miss Cooper," Minerva assured her assistant. "It's for my peace of mind as well as yours. Hogwarts needs Albus."  
  
Tracey nodded, crossing the room to Minerva's side. "Yes, Professor, I know."  
  
Without warning, she hugged Minerva. Although surprised, Minerva returned it after a moment. When she'd released her mentor, Tracey smiled up at her and left the room without another word. Shaking her head, Minerva returned to her seat by the fire and picked up her book, but didn't take in another word.  
  
* * *  
  
That evening, a tall, quiet figure slipped into Tracey's quarters. Moving quietly, the figure crossed the sitting room and slipped into the bedroom. As in the sitting room, the bedroom was furnished in maple wood with navy blue and maroon to compliment it. The figure approached the bed and gazed down at the young woman asleep in it. Sprawled on her stomach, the covers had slipped down to her waist. The figure eased them up to her shoulders and, murmuring something in her sleep, she cuddled one of her extra pillows to her. The figure smiled and lightly stroked her auburn hair back from her face. Most had been pulled back into a braid, but a few wisps were too short to be pulled back into the braid. "Tracey, you're going to be the death of me if you're not more careful." Sighing, the figure turned and left.  
  
* * *  
  
"That stupid girl! She ruined everything!" Voldemort watched, amused, as his 'partner' ranted and raged. "I almost had him! Then she had to ruin it!"  
  
"Sso get rid of her," Voldemort suggested when his partner had fallen silent. "If she posess that much of a threat, kill her and be done with it."  
  
A/N2: I don't normally answer reviews within an author's note, but Liz asked, "does Minerva overcome her jealousy of Tracey and do Albus and Minerva end up together after that?" Unfortunately, I can't answer those questions without spoiling the plot, but rest assured that it has a somewhat happy ending. However, it's not necessarily *jealousy* Minerva feels toward Tracey, but more along the lines of losing her best friend. 


	14. Happy Christmas

Out of the Clear Blue Sky  
  
Chapter Fourteen - Happy Christmas  
  
A/N: Here we are. Tracey begins working on the Animagus transformation, gets her first taste of Quidditch, and the winter holidays arrive. There's a question at the end of the fic, please answer it when you review. Thank you.  
  
As promised, Minerva began working with Tracey on the practical transformation the following Wednesday. Much to her annoyance, she didn't accomplish much. She wasn't even sure what her Animagus form would _be_. When they agreed to stop for the week, Tracey felt defeated. "I won't be able to do it, Professor."  
  
"Nonsense, Tracey." The older witch's voice was brisk, but the hand she placed on the younger witch's shoulder was comforting. "Rome wasn't built in a day, you know. I worked on the transformation for over a year before I succeeded."  
  
Tracey nodded. "So you've said. Did you ever get frustrated?"  
  
Minerva nodded as she began ushering her assistant towards the door. "Yes, I did, although I wouldn't be surprised if you have more patience than I did." She glanced around before speaking again. "Your father certainly does."  
  
Tracey grinned, a look in her eye that Minerva couldn't quite discern. "Yes, he's more patient than I am, though I don't think I ever want him mad at me."  
  
Minerva shook her head. "You certainly don't. There's a reason You-Know-Who is afraid of him."  
  
Tracey rolled her eyes. "Why not call him Voldemort and be done with it?"  
  
Minerva sniffed disdainfully as they continued towards Tracey's rooms. "Because the name is ridiculous and I refuse to call him that."  
  
Tracey snickered. "So call him He-With-The-Ridiculous-Name instead. I'm sure everyone would love that, particularly Xiomara."  
  
"Hmm, that idea has merit, actually," Minerva commented thoughtfully.  
  
"I didn't expect you to take me seriously," Tracey returned, startled, but her smile reappearing all the same.  
  
"Never let it be said that I am predictable all the time," Minerva told Tracey with a wink before leaving the younger witch and heading for her own rooms.  
  
Tracey's eyes were round as she stared after her idol. "Minerva McGonagall actually winked at me. My friends would never believe it." Shaking her head, Tracey disappeared into her rooms.  
  
* * *  
  
That Saturday, Tracey got her first taste of Quidditch. As she sat next to her father, watching the players zip around on their broomsticks, she began to appreciate why Harry and Ron were so obsessed. If she wasn't careful, she'd get drawn into it herself. As a member of the staff, she wasn't supposed to favor one House over another, but she couldn't help hoping Gryffindor would win. Not because the Slytherins were evil gits, but because Harry needed something to cheer him up. Tracey frowned thoughtfully as she watched the boy circle the pitch. Bright green eyes flitted from place to place, searching for the ever-elusive Snitch. He'd seemed a little on the thin side when he'd first arrived at Hogwarts in September, but he'd filled out quite nicely and she couldn't help admiring his physique. Feeling her face grow warm, she tore her eyes away and watched as the Gryffindor Chasers moved the Quaffle to the Slytherin end of the pitch. A roar erupted from the stands when Ginny scored. A glance at the other end of the pitch told Tracey Ron was happy for his sister. Just then, a red blur sped past, with a green blur right behind it. The stands fell silent as Harry and Draco hurtled downwards, the Snitch fluttering just in front of them.  
  
When Harry managed to catch the Snitch after a short, but intense, chase, every single staff member watched to make sure a repeat of last year's game didn't happen. Looking mad enough to breathe fire, Draco strode off the pitch, his team trailing after him. The Gryffindors surged onto the field and swamped their team. The Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws offered their congratulations before heading up to the castle. Tracey sat slumped in her seat, relieved. "Tracey?"  
  
She looked up into a pair of curious blue-gray eyes. "Yes, Griffith?"  
  
"Are you coming or not?" he asked quietly.  
  
She looked around, startled. The stands were empty now. "Oh! Yes, I am, actually." Taking the hand he offered, she scrambled to her feet. When she tried to take a step, her foot caught on the hem of her cloak and she stumbled against him, his arms automatically enfolding her. "I'm sorry, I'm not normally this clumsy."  
  
"It's alright." His voice was unusually soft and gentle.  
  
Her cheeks grew warm as she wondered why he hadn't let go of her. "Um, I _can_ stand, you know."  
  
"I'm sure you can," he murmured, raising a hand to brush a loose strand of her hair back from her face.  
  
"GRIFFITH! TRACEY!" Xiomara's shout startled both of them. "STOP SNOGGING AND LET'S GO!"  
  
"Shall we, then?" Griffith asked, offering his arm like a true gentleman.  
  
"Yes, we shall." Tracey took his arm and allowed him to help her from the stands, wondering all the time why her cheeks were still warm.  
  
* * *  
  
"What's this I hear about you and Griffith snogging, Tracey?" Albus' mild question drew Minerva's gaze from the flames that evening. As had become habit, she, Albus, and Tracey had gathered in his study to play chess.  
  
Looking at the younger woman, Minerva noticed that her face seemed unusually flushed as she determinedly kept her gaze on the chessboard. "Nothing, Father."  
  
He raised an eyebrow and glanced at Minerva, who shrugged. This was the first time she'd heard of any snogging that might have occurred between Griffith and Tracey. "Not from what Xiomara shouted up at you two."  
  
"She saw him holding me, Father," Tracey explained, her gaze still on the chessboard. "We were not snogging."  
  
"Then why was he holding you?" Albus inquired gently.  
  
Tracey sighed. "My foot caught on my robe when I stood up, so I ended up stumbling and he caught me."  
  
"Ah." Albus glanced at Minerva once more. "Well, we've all been known to misconstrue something we've seen."  
  
"Knowing Xiomara, it was almost a given that she would misconstrue what she saw," Minerva added.  
  
Tracey nodded absently, but said nothing. About fifteen minutes later, Tracey had lost spectacularly. She stood up. "If you'll excuse me, I have the second-year Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws tomorrow."  
  
Albus and Minerva watched Tracey leave the room before turning back to each other. "Albus, was that necessary?"  
  
He looked at her with raised eyebrows. "What do you mean, my dear?"  
  
She sighed. "You embarrassed her by asking about her and Griffith."  
  
"Embarrassed her?" Albus asked, surprised. "Why should that embarrass her?"  
  
"Think about it, Albus," she told him patiently. "Tracey is a rather attractive young woman, Griffith is quite handsome. I wouldn't be surprised if there's an attraction between them."  
  
"If Griffith's so handsome, why aren't _you_ attracted to him, Minerva?" he asked curiously. "After all, you're quite lovely yourself."  
  
Minerva felt the heat rise to her cheeks. "There's more to it than looks, Albus."  
  
"Obviously," he answered quietly, studying her flushed face. "_Is_ there anything between you and Griffith?"  
  
She rolled her eyes. "Hardly. He's just a dear friend."  
  
"I'm glad."  
  
The quiet comment surprised her. "What do you mean?"  
  
He shook his head. "Never mind. It's getting late, you should go to bed yourself."  
  
She nodded slowly, studying him for a long moment before standing and leaving the study herself. Still in his chair by the abandoned chessboard, Albus gazed thoughtfully into the fire. In her rooms, Tracey lay awake in bed, trying hard not to think about Griffith Hooch, but failing miserably. Minerva went through the motions of preparing for bed mechanically, wondering what Albus had meant by 'I'm glad'.  
  
* * *  
  
Sarai watched from her office window as the last of the carriages drawn by thestrals trundled down the winding drive. With no Yule Ball to entice the students to stay and the shadow of Voldemort looming over everything, most students were going home for the winter holidays. Even Harry Potter would be spending the holidays with the Weasleys instead of at Hogwarts. Sighing, she turned from the window and back to her desk. It was covered with homework that still needed to be marked, but she didn't feel much like taking care of it right now. Coming to a decision, she left her office and headed to the staff lounge. Opening the door quietly, she grinned. Xiomara Hooch had apparently caught Severus Snape because they were kissing rather passionately. Sarai shut the door more loudly than necessary and, when that didn't work, cleared her throat ostentatiously. The couple finally pulled apart and turned to where Sarai was standing. "Hi, Sarai!"  
  
"Hello, Xiomara, Severus." Sarai nodded to each of them, smiling. "Enjoying the season, I see."  
  
Xiomara grinned and leaned against Severus' chest. "You could say that."  
  
"Xio, hush," Severus instructed her.  
  
She proceeded to stick her tongue out at him. He reached up and tugged on it. "Put that away, please."  
  
Xiomara rolled her eyes. "Don't be such a party poop, Sev."  
  
Sighing, Severus leaned down and captured her mouth in another kiss. Sarai looked away, because the obvious intensity of it reminded her of her deceased husband. She stared into the fire and did her best not to hear the obvious sounds indicating that the pair had left. That would be most difficult part of the holidays: celebrating without Reuben. She sighed and stared moodily into the fire. She didn't look up when the door opened and closed. "Sarai?"  
  
The familiar voice, however, brought Sarai up and out of her chair. A tall, slightly muscular woman with straight auburn hair and gray eyes stood in the doorway with a taller black man missing one of his arms; a young woman with smooth golden-brown skin, curly black hair, and dark gray eyes; and a seventh year boy in Ravenclaw robes with warm brown skin, chocolate brown eyes, and dark brown hair. Sarai's face lit up. "Mom! Dad! Fiona! Sean!"  
  
As Sarai's parents and children gathered around her, Minerva McGonagall stood in the doorway, watching them almost wistfully. She was glad she'd been able to do this for her niece, but observing the family reunion reminded her how alone she was. After giving them a few moments, Minerva cleared her throat. "Sarai, you may leave Hogwarts for the holidays if you wish."  
  
"What about you, Minnie?" Artemis asked, drawing a glare from her younger sister. "You're family, too."  
  
"I'm sorry, Temmi," Artemis glared at Minerva, "but I'm needed here."  
  
Artemis studied Minerva for a few moments. "Can we speak alone for a moment?"  
  
"Of course," Minerva nodded and gestured for Artemis to precede her from the staff room.  
  
Once the door closed behind them, Artemis spoke. "Have you told him yet?"  
  
"Told whom what?" Minerva asked, pretending ignorance.  
  
Artemis snorted indelicately. "You _know_ who I'm referring to, Minnie."  
  
"Why don't you enlighten me?" Minerva asked, folding her arms across her chest.  
  
"Uncle Albus, of course," Artemis retorted. "You've been in love with him for decades. Don't think I haven't noticed."  
  
Minerva glared. "Look, Temmi, let me handle this _my_ way. I get enough from Xiomara, Poppy, and Sylvia."  
  
"Good," Artemis replied. Minerva sighed. "Look, I'm only asking because I love you and want you to be happy."  
  
"I know," Minerva grudgingly admitted. "It's just...I've never seen anything from him to indicate that he might return my feelings and I don't want to risk it yet."  
  
Artemis nodded. "I understand, Minnie, but sometimes you have to take that risk."  
  
"I'll keep that in mind, Temmi." Artemis made a face and Minerva laughed. "If you insist on calling me 'Minnie', I'll call you 'Temmi'."  
  
Artemis laughed. "Okay, okay, Minerva. You have a Happy Christmas, alright?"  
  
"I certainly hope so," Minerva replied, hugging Artemis. Within a few minutes, Minerva was alone once more, with the memory of hugs from Michael, Sarai, Fiona, and Sean to warm her as she trekked through the cold corridors to her rooms.  
  
* * *  
  
Tracey loved to play in the snow. Now that the holidays had arrived, she could be found out on the grounds at all hours of the day, playing in the snow. Sometimes she played with the older students and sometimes she played with Xiomara and Stewart, who was slowly regaining his memory and his health under the watchful eye of his sister. Two or three days before Christmas, she was enjoying the snow by herself when a snowball unexpectedly hit her in one shoulder. She turned quickly to see Griffith standing several paces away, a broad grin on his face. "Hi, Tracey."  
  
She smiled back, even as she began packing a snowball of her own. "Hi, Griffith."  
  
They were soon engaged in an all-out snowball fight. They fired snowballs back and forth even as they dodged. Soon both were soaked and breathless with laughter, agreeing to call a truce. "You're good at this."  
  
"Thanks," she puffed, flopping back into the snow and beginning to make a snow angel. "I didn't see much snow in America."  
  
"Well that depends," he commented, watching her for a long moment. She was wearing a fawn-colored dress with red braid trim along the hem, collar, and edges of her sleeves. Over that she wore a black robe, also trimmed with red braid. A cloak the same fawn color as her dress trimmed with faux fur completed the ensemble. Her crimson gloves were soaked from throwing snowballs. "Which part of America did you live in?"  
  
"Southern California," she replied, getting up carefully and turning to examine her handiwork.  
  
"Ah, I see." He studied the snow angel she'd made. When he began brushing at her shoulders with his gloved hands, she stiffened. "Easy, you've got snow all over your back."  
  
She nodded and stood still as he brushed the snow off her cloak. When he finished, she turned to face him. "Thank you, Griffith."  
  
"You're welcome, Tracey," he answered with a gentle smile.  
  
She held his gaze for a moment before looking away, wondering why her cheeks were warm. She groaned when she saw a familiar figure exit the castle. "Oh, no. Here comes 'Mara."  
  
"Wanna get her?" Griffith asked, a mischievous look in his eyes.  
  
Tracey grinned and began scooping up snow to make a snowball. Xiomara didn't stand a chance when two snowballs hit her, one on her shoulder, the other in her face.  
  
* * *  
  
When Tracey opened her door to Albus' knock on Christmas morning, he was surprised to see tear tracks on her cheeks. He swiftly entered her sitting room and closed the door behind himself. "My child, whatever is the matter?"  
  
She sniffled and scrubbed at the tear tracks. "I miss Mom, Father."  
  
He stared down at her, suddenly realizing just how much Tracey had to have left behind. The friends, other family, maybe even a boyfriend. "I'm sorry, Tracey, I forgot that you'd had a life before you dropped out of the sky."  
  
She smiled in spite of the tears glittering behind her glasses. "It's alright, Father. I've been so busy that I forget sometimes, too." She sighed. "Christmas was always Mom's favorite holiday. I knew she was from England and she used to tell me how beautiful the snow was at Christmas time."  
  
He smiled, feeling his heart wrench. "I understand, Tracey."  
  
She studied him for a moment. "I'm not sure you do, Father."  
  
"What?" He looked down at her, surprised.  
  
"I was well on my way to getting a degree in English, Father," she explained quietly. "After I received it, I was going to get my credential so I could teach at the high school or middle school level. My life wasn't the greatest, but Mom loved me and Ryan, well, I wasn't _his_ daughter, but he never treated me differently from his own children. I had my cats, my books, I was happy." She turned away and walked over to look out the window, her back to him, but he heard the tears in her voice. "Then I somehow ended up here. After getting over the shock, I was delighted to be here. I was so busy with training and worrying about this stalker and teaching and marking that I haven't had time to miss that life, but," she shrugged helplessly, "I think it's finally caught up with me."  
  
Albus walked over and placed his hand on her shoulder. "I have something to tell you, Tracey. I meant to wait a little longer, but I think the time is right."  
  
She turned enough to look up at him curiously. "What do you mean, Father?"  
  
"I have contacts all over the world, including America, and I asked them to do some snooping around for me," he told her softly. "A few months ago, she told me that she'd found a couple named Sandra and Ryan Andrews living in southern California, with a thirteen-year-old daughter named Tracey Cooper, an eight-year-old daughter named Lynda, and a six-year-old son named Jeffrey. She said the most striking thing about the older daughter was that she's the spitting image of me, despite being a girl and smaller."  
  
Tracey stared up at him, bright blue eyes wide. "You mean that I've been living in the Potterverse all this time?"  
  
He nodded. "Yes, you have."  
  
"Well, what are we waiting for?" she demanded, grabbing his hand and beginning to tow him towards the door. "Let's go to California!"  
  
He planted his feet and waited for Tracey to turn back to him. "Tracey, think for a moment. What is today's date?"  
  
She frowned, but grudgingly replied, "December 25, 1996."  
  
"And what day did you disappear?" he asked patiently.  
  
"July 4, 2003." She hung her head and stared at the floor. "In other words, I haven't disappeared yet. I'll have to wait seven years before I can see Mom again."  
  
He nodded. "Unfortunately, yes."  
  
She sighed and walked over to slump onto the couch in front of the fire. "Great."  
  
He sat down beside her. "At least you have me now."  
  
She smiled and curled up against her father. "And I'm glad for it, don't doubt it, but I still miss Mom."  
  
"I understand, Tracey, but at least try to enjoy this Christmas," he told her.  
  
"There is no try," she lectured him, a slight smile on her face. "It is either do or do not."  
  
He chuckled. "Where is that from?"  
  
"A Muggle movie called Star Wars," she informed him, her smile growing and a twinkle to match his appearing in her eyes once more. "Now, how about opening some presents?"  
  
A/N2: I have question for all of you, my faithful readers: would anyone object if I sort of skimmed over the rest of the school year? 


	15. Skimming

Out of the Clear Blue Sky  
  
Chapter Fifteen - Skimming  
  
A/N: Whew! Here's the next chapter. I received a request for more Griffith action, so there's some of that, and a little Harry action, too. Anyway, I hope you like it!  
  
The rest of the school year seemed to pass by in a blur for Tracey. She continued to teach the first- through third-year students and steadily grew more confident in herself and her abilities. She had yet to successfully perform the Animagus transformation, but she at least was able to produce some part of her Animagus form. What was odd about was the fact that she never seemed to change size, which was puzzling. The only reason she and Professor McGonagall could come up with was that Tracey's Animagus form was roughly the same size as her human form. Alastor Moody had moved in with Poppy after their marriage and would often be seen tromping around the castle, magical eye spinning to keep watch. Occasionally, he would help Sarai with her classes and spoke with students who wished to become Aurors.  
  
Several more attempts had been made on Albus' life, but the fact that he was rarely alone made it possible for him to survive each attack. Tracey wasn't so sure Albus was the sole target of the attacks anymore. The last one had seemed to be directed at both of them as they strolled around the Quidditch pitch together on the last day of Easter break. Xiomara and her brother had been up in the Quidditch stands at the time, chatting about this, that, and the other when a large Acromantula came charging out of the forest and right at father and daughter. Both dove out of the way, but neither was given a chance to draw their wands as a second Acromantula followed the first. Tracey could only do her best to dodge the Acromantula chasing her and hope someone would be able to stop it.  
  
She would have escaped if her foot hadn't caught in a hole, causing her to stumble and fall to the ground. She expected to be picked up any second when she heard a voice cry, "_Arania Exame_!" Hearing the spider make a noise as if in pain, Tracey rolled onto her side in time to see another jet of light hit the spider from above. Looking for the source, she spotted Griffith Hooch hovering on a broomstick nearby. "Tracey, go!"  
  
"I can't!" she called back, feeling her ankle throb. "I think I twisted my ankle!"  
  
As the spider, much weaker now, lumbered towards her, Tracey desperately scooted backwards on her bottom, uncaring if she got grass stains on her robes. Another jet from Griffith's wand sent the Acromantula tumbling back into the Forbidden Forest. Once the danger was past, Tracey promptly fainted.  
  
When she came to, she was being carried to the castle by a pair of strong arms. "Father?"  
  
"No, Tracey, it's Griffith." His voice was quiet and soothing, but she thought she detected worry in it. "Who's your father?"  
  
"I can't tell you," she murmured, enjoying the feeling of Griffith's arms around her. "Where's Professor Dumbledore?"  
  
"Right here, Tracey." Albus' voice sounded from behind Griffith.  
  
She looked over Griffith's shoulder and spotted Xiomara helping the Headmaster along. He was favoring his right arm. "What happened to your arm, Father?"  
  
"Tracey!" Xiomara exclaimed, yellow eyes wide.  
  
"Oops." Tracey clapped her hand over her mouth, but Griffith had stopped in his tracks and slowly turned to look at Albus.  
  
He looked from daughter to father and back again before shaking his head and turning to continue up to the hospital wing. "I should have guessed."  
  
Albus chuckled. "I'm glad you're taking it so well, Griffith."  
  
He shrugged, causing Tracey to latch her arms around his neck. "Well, she looks a lot like you when you had auburn hair, Sir. Your eyes are the same color and--"  
  
"That's enough, Griffith," Xiomara cut her brother off as they climbed the front steps. "You've made your point."  
  
Realizing she still had her arms around Griffith's neck, Tracey loosened her grip, feeling her cheeks grow extremely warm. "In answer to your question, Tracey, I landed wrong on my arm."  
  
She nodded, trying desperately to get rid of the flames that had taken up residence in her cheeks. "Ro, would you mind opening the door? My hands are full."  
  
"Not at all, Griffith." Xiomara moved around Griffith and pushed the oak front doors open.  
  
"Thanks, Sis." Griffith smiled at his sister before slipping into the castle.  
  
"You're welcome, Bro." Xiomara and Albus followed Griffith.  
  
The rest of the trip to the hospital wing was made in silence. By the time they arrived, the heat in Tracey's cheeks had abated. "Griffith? Tracey? 'Mara? Albus?"  
  
"Hi, Poppy," Tracey greeted the mediwitch sheepishly.  
  
"What happened?" Poppy asked, even as she indicated for Griffith to set Tracey on one of the beds.  
  
Without asking, Xiomara helped Albus to the next bed over and the Headmaster sat down as he explained what had happened to himself and Tracey. "Thank you, Xiomara and Griffith, for coming to our aid."  
  
"Not at all, Dumbledore," Griffith answered cheerfully from where he was watching Poppy work on Tracey's ankle.  
  
"No thanks are necessary, Headmaster," Xiomara added from where she stood at the foot of the bed upon which Albus sat.  
  
In no time, both Tracey and her father had been healed. "Don't walk too much, Tracey. Albus, be careful with that arm."  
  
Both nodded. "Thank you, Poppy."  
  
"Thanks, Poppy."  
  
* * *  
  
Tracey didn't find out until later that Griffith had spoken to Alastor about her...  
  
"Alastor, can I talk with you for a minute?" the younger man asked of his friend.  
  
"Sure," Alastor let Griffith into the rooms he shared with Poppy and waved a scarred and calloused hand in the general direction of the sofa and armchairs. "Have a seat."  
  
Griffith walked over and sank into one of the armchairs. When Alastor had settled himself onto the sofa, his wooden leg stretched out in front of him, Griffith spoke. "Did you know that Dumbledore is Tracey's father?"  
  
"She told me the first time we met," Alastor replied with a nod. "Explained where she came from and everything."  
  
Griffith frowned. "Why would she tell you, but not me?"  
  
Alastor shrugged. "Well, you two _were_ mad at each other for a few days. I doubt she felt like confiding in you right away."  
  
Griffith smiled ruefully. "I see your point, but I think she almost let it slip when I came here to confront her about the letters she'd written."  
  
"What do you mean?" Alastor asked, curious.  
  
"Well, I asked why she'd written the letters in the first place because, frankly, it wasn't really her business. She started to say 'Father' and then switched to 'Professor Dumbledore'." Griffith shook his head. "She's got quite a temper, that one."  
  
Alastor chuckled. "So I've heard. Minerva says that Tracey has a natural talent for teaching and that she's quite adept at keeping students in line."  
  
Griffith shrugged. "So, who's her mother? Not Minerva."  
  
"Why not?" Alastor asked, surprised by the other man's confidence.  
  
"Tracey is short and both Albus and Minerva are tall," Griffith explained. "The shape of Tracey's face doesn't match her father's, but it doesn't match Minerva's, either. Plus, Minerva calls Tracey 'Miss Cooper', while Albus calls her by her first name."  
  
Alastor studied Griffith for a moment. "Have you been watching Tracey?" Strangely, Griffith's face turned red and he looked down at the floor. Alastor chuckled. "Tracey's mother was a Muggle Albus and Aberforth had grown up with. Albus married her and she gave birth to Tracey. Unfortunately, Tracey's mother died when she was young."  
  
"How long ago was this?" Griffith asked.  
  
"I'd say a little over 130 years ago," Alastor replied after a moment's thought.  
  
Griffith stared. "She doesn't look a day over 16."  
  
Alastor shrugged. "She's spent much of the past century in Muggle America. She somehow ended up drinking an Aging Potion that left her at the age of 20. It also muddled her memories, so the professors spent the summer helping her review what she needed to know."  
  
"Why is she still here?" Griffith asked. "Wouldn't she be better off in Hogsmeade?"  
  
"Albus has his reasons, I'm sure." Alastor's voice was firm, telling Griffith better than words that the subject was closed.  
  
Griffith sighed and stood up. "Thanks for talking with me."  
  
Alastor stood up as well and grasped his friend's hand tightly. "No problem, Griffith."  
  
Nodding, the younger man turned and left, still puzzling over the mystery of where Tracey had come from.  
  
* * *  
  
The younger students had come to love having Tracey teach them. She made the classes fun and interesting, yet the students still learned. For his part, Harry rarely interacted with Tracey. As a sixth year, she didn't teach his classes and she didn't sit in on them anymore. When he passed her as he walked along a corridor, however, he was surprised when she stopped to speak with him. "How are you, Mr. Potter?"  
  
"I'm fine, Professor," he replied, a little disconcerted to find himself looked down at her. "How are you?"  
  
"I'm fine," she replied, seemingly unperturbed to have to look up, although she probably had to look up most of the time anyway. "How are your studies coming along?"  
  
He really had no idea what to make of the situation. "Er, okay, I guess."  
  
She raised an eyebrow at him, reminding him of Dumbledore and McGonagall. "Just okay?"  
  
He shrugged. "I haven't really thought about it. I just try to get through each day without messing up or losing points."  
  
She smiled at that. "Sounds like a good plan. How are your Potions classes?"  
  
"Not the greatest, but Snape seems to have eased up," he admitted, making a face as he thought of the Head of Slytherin.  
  
She chuckled. "He didn't like me much when I first arrived, but I think he's learned to keep things to himself."  
  
He looked at her oddly, but she said nothing. "Er, okay, then. I gotta go now. It was nice talking with you." And it had! She had treated him like an equal, not a student.  
  
"Alright, then. Be a good boy, Mr. Potter," she reached up and patted his shoulder. "Oh," she lowered her voice, glancing around, "don't forget to clear your mind before going to sleep at night." Winking, she turned and left with a swish of the pale blue robes she wore.  
  
Scratching his head, Harry shrugged and continued on his way. That had been a rather bizarre encounter, but she wasn't that bad, actually.  
  
* * *  
  
"Minerva? Have you seen Tracey?" Albus asked her the next morning.  
  
Minerva shook her head as she sat down. "I haven't seen her since dinner last night, though I found a note on my door, asking me to teach all of her classes today."  
  
He nodded, beginning to serve himself. "No explanation as to why she wanted you to take them over?"  
  
"None at all," she confirmed as she began serving herself as well. "Though it's not like Tracey to just leave a note."  
  
Albus frowned, looking worried as he played with his food. "This does not bode well."  
  
"No, it doesn't," Minerva agreed, not interested in her food for some reason. "Should I check on her before my first class of the day?"  
  
He shook his head. "No, I'll check myself."  
  
"Aunt Min?" Sarai's voice distracted Minerva.  
  
Minerva turned to her niece. "Yes, Sarai?"  
  
The younger woman looked curious. "What were you and Uncle Albus talking about?"  
  
"When did you last see Tracey?" Minerva asked instead.  
  
"Dinner last night," was the prompt reply. "Why?"  
  
Minerva sighed. "Neither of us has seen Tracey since last night and she requested that I teach her classes today."  
  
The Defense Against the Dark Arts professor looked worried. "This is not good."  
  
"No, it isn't," Minerva agreed.  
  
They looked up as the owl post arrived. Minerva's eye was caught by an eagle owl that she had seen only once before. "Albus."  
  
Albus followed her gaze. Soon, the entire staff watched as the bird swooped over to the staff table and dropped a scroll of parchment onto the table in front of Albus. He pulled out his wand and pointed it at the scroll. The seal broke and the scroll unrolled itself. Minerva leaned over Albus' shoulder to read the message. It chilled her blood. _Your daughter is alive and well, for now. If you want her to remain that way, you will follow my instructions to the letter._ A list of instructions followed.  
  
A look up at the Headmaster told Minerva all she needed to know. He spoke loud enough for the entire staff table to hear. "Everyone, in the staff room. Now."  
  
* * *  
  
The young woman in question woke to find herself in an unfamiliar room. When she tried to move, she realized she was chained up. "Hello? Is anyone there?"  
  
"Ah, we're finally awake," the voice preceded the appearance of the woman Tracey had seen at the Masquerade Ball.  
  
"You!" Tracey exclaimed, realizing afterwards just how clichéd that sounded.  
  
"Yes, me," the woman replied haughtily, hatred and malice turning her beautiful face ugly. "You have ruined my plans for the last time, witch!"  
  
Tracey glared at the woman with all the anger she could manage, despite being clad only in a simple nightgown with her wand nowhere in sight. "I was only trying to keep my father alive!"  
  
"Yes, yes." The woman waved Tracey's assertion off with a negligent wave of her hand. "Well, your father should be receiving my note anytime now."  
  
"What note?" Tracey asked suspiciously.  
  
The woman widened her eyes innocently, but the smirk on her lips ruined the effect. "The note telling him that I have his beloved daughter and, if he wants her back, he needs to come to me."  
  
"No!" Tracey lunged towards the woman, but the chains at her wrists and ankles held her back and the woman laughed at Tracey's futile attempts to get to her.  
  
"It's no use, Little One. Those chains will hold until I say so and not before."  
  
Tracey made a growl of frustration in her throat. "So help me, if I get free, I'll kill you!"  
  
The woman's laugh was chilling. "You're too much of a goody-two-shoes to do that, Little One!"  
  
"Stop calling me that!" Tracey practically snarled, feeling very feral.  
  
"Little One! Little One!" the woman chanted.  
  
Tracey felt her blood begin to boil. A voice suddenly sounded in her head, reminding her of Griffith. _You'll only be playing into your enemy's hands if you let your temper get the best of you._ Nodding, Tracey took a deep breath and let it out slowly. She would not lose her temper.  
  
* * *  
  
"What is it, Uncle?" Sarai asked, the moment all of the staff was gathered in the staff room.  
  
"Tracey has been kidnapped," he announced with preamble. "I've been given instructions to rescue her. I will follow them."  
  
"No, Albus!" Minerva exclaimed. "You'll be playing into their hands!"  
  
"What would you have me do, Minerva?" he asked her quietly. "Leave Tracey to be killed, or worse?"  
  
Minerva winced. Though Albus had not raised his voice, he might as well have. "I'm sorry, Albus."  
  
"She's right, though, Albus," Alastor volunteered from where he sat beside his wife. "You'll be walkin' into a trap if you go in alone."  
  
Albus smile was without warmth. "That's why I would like two of you to follow after one hour."  
  
"An hour?" Minerva asked, feeling her heart clench inside of her. "Why not half an hour?"  
  
"It may not take me long to find Tracey and get out of there," Albus explained quietly. "If it takes me longer than an hour to get to her, I will feel safer knowing there will be two of you coming along after you." Utter silence reigned for several moments before a clamor of voices shouted that they would follow. Albus held up his hands for silence. "Thank you for your support, but I ask that Minerva and Severus be the two to follow."  
  
"As if you need to ask, Albus," she retorted tartly.  
  
Severus bowed his head. "You've done much for me. It's the least I can do to pay you back."  
  
"Thank you, both of you." Minerva's heart ached to see Albus look so worried. "Now, I won't be leaving until after lunch. Go teach your classes."  
  
The staff trickled out of the room until only four remained. "Albus, I hope you know what you're doing."  
  
"I hope so, too, Minerva." He smiled tiredly at his Deputy. "If anything should happen to me, you know what to do."  
  
She nodded, unable to speak past the lump in her throat. "Headmaster, let me go with you."  
  
"No, Severus," Albus shook his head. "My instructions clearly indicate that I need to be alone when I come, or I will be endangering Tracey's life."  
  
"What about Tabby?" Sarai asked quietly from where she stood beside her aunt.  
  
Albus shook his head again. "No companions of any sort, whether human or otherwise."  
  
Sarai shrugged. "It was worth a shot."  
  
"Yes, and I thank you for the suggestion, Sarai." Albus' smile was strained, to say the least.  
  
Minerva, Severus, and Sarai watched as the Headmaster left the room. "I don't like seeing him like this."  
  
"Neither do I, Sarai," Minerva agreed as Severus nodded to the two witches and left. "Neither do I."  
  
Together, they left the staff room.  
  
* * *  
  
Albus gazed up at the castle thoughtfully. It looked like nothing more than the type of castle one would expect to find, but he knew that his daughter was somewhere inside. Squaring his shoulders, he entered the castle.  
  
* * *  
  
"Ah, good, he's on his way." She smirked at Tracey. "I knew he would come after you."  
  
"You evil bitch," Tracey spat, forgetting to keep calm.  
  
"Yes, well, I can't have you distracting him, so why don't you go beddy- bye?" the woman suggested. "_Stupefy!_" 


	16. No Rest for the Weary

Out of the Clear Blue Sky  
  
Chapter Sixteen - No Rest for the Weary  
  
A/N: This chapter was actually written a couple months ago, so I would know where the heck I would be going with this fic. Anyway, Albus confronts his stalker, they duel, he wins, and He-With-the-Ridiculous-Name attacks Hogwarts. 'Nuff said? Good. Read. Now.  
  
He stared at the woman in front of him in confusion. A witch? The person who'd been stalking him was a witch? "Why do you wish to defeat me?"  
  
The violet eyes glittered with anger and hatred. "You killed my lover. When he took over the world, I was to be his queen! And you ruined it!"  
  
It made sense now. She'd had a chance at power and he'd taken it away from her. He sighed. He should have known. "So what are you going to do to me? Kill me?"  
  
She laughed mirthlessly. "Hardly. That would be too easy, Albus Dumbledore."  
  
She pointed her wand at the chains binding him and they released him. He gazed at her warily, rubbing his wrists to get some feeling back into them. The moment he had entered the room, the chains had promptly ensnared his wrists. He was acutely aware of the unconscious form of his daughter nearby. "If you're not going to kill me, what are you going to do, then?"  
  
"We're going to duel each other," she explained with a smirk, returning his wand to him. "Just as you and Grindelwald did over fifty years ago. Only, this time, you will lose."  
  
Albus sighed, but he didn't have much of a choice. If he refused, he could lose his daughter. "Very well."  
  
Both of them were accomplished duelists and put up a good fight. Both had something to fight for and that gave them the strength they needed when they faltered. However, Albus was far more experienced than Alexandra, having lived many more years than she had. This became obvious as the duel continued. Finally, fearing she would lose the duel, Alexandra shouted, "_Accio Tracey Cooper_!"  
  
Albus watched, dumbfounded, as his still-unconscious daughter flew towards the witch. Alexandra wrapped an arm around the young woman, using her as a human shield. The young woman stirred, but didn't wake up. A look of malignant triumph was on Alexandra's face, distorting the beauty of it. "If you don't want your daughter dead, surrender to me."  
  
The young woman in the witch's arms stirred slightly and the eyelids flickered. Albus lowered his wand, his shoulders slumping in defeat. "I surrender, Alexandra. Just don't hurt my daughter."  
  
"At last, victory is mine," Alexandra breathed, summoning Albus' wand to her.  
  
A low growl attracted Albus' attention and he could only stare. Instead of holding his barely-conscious daughter hostage, Alexandra now had her arm wrapped around a fully conscious, majestic lioness. She was about a meter tall at the shoulder and a good one and a half meters in length. There was a hint of red undertones in her tawny fur as she twisted in the witch's grip, lips writhing in a rather nasty snarl. The lioness' blue eyes glanced over at Albus for barely a moment, but that was enough for Alexandra. There was a bang and the lioness gave a roar of pain, falling away from the witch.  
  
Shaking her head as if to clear it, the lioness sprang at the witch. Alexandra tried to move away, but the tawny paws swiped at the witch, shredding the back of her robes and sending her tumbling. Before the witch could regain her feet, the lioness was on her, slowly crushing her windpipe with her jaws. "Tracey! No!"  
  
The lioness jerked back from the now-unconscious woman with a half-growl, half-whimper. She picked up the wands that had fallen from Alexandra's hand with her teeth and returned to Albus' side. He took them and, after a moment's thought, cords flew from his wand to bind the witch. He finally breathed a sigh of relief when Alexandra was bound and gagged, sagging to his knees. He was worn out, the wounds he'd sustained in the course of the duel making their presence known. The lioness made a comforting sort of sound and nudged his arm with her nose.  
  
He smiled and slowly stroked her soft fur. "Well done, Tracey. Well done." And he slumped to the floor, unconscious.  
  
* * *  
  
The two professors jumped when a roar echoed from the dungeons of the castle. "What's a lion doing in Britain?"  
  
"No time to explain, Severus," Minerva replied, and then switched to her Animagus form.  
  
Swearing under his breath, Severus took off after her as the sleek tabby dashed down corridor after corridor. It was all he could do to keep her in sight, until they reached the dungeons. He finally caught up to her outside one of the doors. She was back in her human form. "Minerva, _what_ was that all about?"  
  
"Hush, Severus," she hissed, studying the heavy wooden door closely.  
  
He peered through the barred window over her shoulder and sucked in a sharp breath. "There's a lion in there."  
  
"Don't be ridiculous," she shot back, examining the lock on the door. "That's not a lion." He breathed a sigh of relief. "It's a lioness."  
  
He stared as she began prodding the lock with her wand. "You're not really thinking of going in there, are you?"  
  
She paused and glared up at him, dark green eyes fierce. "Albus is in there, too, Severus."  
  
He looked through the window again and spotted the headmaster lying on the stone floor at the lioness' paws, blood on his robes and matted in his silver hair and beard. "Are you sure he's alive?"  
  
She gave a sort of half-sob and turned back to the lock. "He has to be. He can't possibly be dead."  
  
The lock finally gave and the door swung open with a creak of heavy steel hinges. Unsure of the deputy headmistress' sanity, he followed her into the cell. The lioness' ears pricked up at the sight of Minerva and lowered slightly when Severus came into view.  
  
Minerva approached the lioness cautiously. "Miss Cooper?" The tawny head bobbed once. "Is he alive?" Another bob. "Can you change back?" This time, a shake of the head. "Have you tried?" The head bobbed again.  
  
The whole time, Minerva had been slowly approaching the lioness and now laid her hand on the tawny head. Both pairs of eyes closed in concentration. When they opened, Tracey Cooper, looking a little worse for wear, was crouched at Minerva's feet, wearing little more than a nightgown. She spat out a mouthful of blood. "Thanks, Professor."  
  
"You're welcome, Miss Cooper." Minerva pulled off her green over robe and handed it to Tracey before turning her attention to Albus. "What happened to him?"  
  
Tracey silently pointed across the room. A tall, handsome woman with flowing golden-brown hair lay unconscious, magically bound and gagged. What caught Severus' attention was the half-lacerated throat. He glanced back at Tracey. The young woman was looking rather pale. He turned his back on the unconscious woman and walked over to where Minerva knelt at the headmaster's side, checking for a pulse. "How is he?"  
  
Minerva's face was worried when she looked up at him. "We need to get him to Poppy, and quickly."  
  
He nodded. Tracey left and rummaged in the pockets of the unconscious woman's robes. She returned with a familiar necklace. "It's a portkey. We just need to say the words and we'll return to Hogwarts." Severus and Minerva stared at the young woman. She was dangerously close to fainting. She gave a sigh of exasperation. "She planned on killing Father and I, then returning to Hogwarts with our bodies. We managed to stop her, but Father's not going to last much longer. May we please get going?"  
  
"What about her?" Severus asked, indicating the unconscious woman. "Shouldn't she be brought along?"  
  
"I don't have my wand, Professor," Tracey replied, pushing her matted hair out of her face, "and I'm too weak to use any wandless magic. You or Professor McGonagall will have to take care of her."  
  
Severus nodded and waved his wand at the woman. "_Mobilicorpus_." The woman's body floated off the ground and over to where the three of them were gathered around the unconscious headmaster.  
  
Once all of them were touching either the necklace or someone who _was_, Tracey spoke. "_Domus dulcis domus._"  
  
* * *  
  
When Albus Dumbledore woke up, he was lying in a bed in the faculty ward of the hospital wing at Hogwarts. One of the first things he noticed was that his right hand was being held. Even without looking, he knew who was holding his hand. He'd held hers often enough over the years. Turning his head on the pillow, he smiled when he saw Minerva McGonagall sitting in a chair beside the bed, fast asleep. She was wearing her customary emerald green robes, but her hair was pulled back into a braid instead of a bun. Albus thought she looked beautiful.  
  
Happy to see her again, he squeezed her hand. Her head snapped up and it was a moment before her dark green eyes focused on him. "Good morning, Albus."  
  
"Good morning, Minerva." he smiled at her as she squeezed his hand. "I take it you managed to get Tracey and I out of that castle alive?"  
  
She gave him stern look, not releasing his hand. "Yes, Miss Cooper is alive and well, as is the woman who wanted you dead."  
  
He sighed and looked up at the ceiling. "Her name is Alexandra Heinsdorf. She was Grindelwald's lover and would have been his queen if he had succeeded. She wanted revenge."  
  
Minerva nodded. "Well, aside from a lacerated throat, deep scratches on her back, and some minor damage left over from a duel, she's fine."  
  
"Where is she?" Albus asked, absently running his thumb along the back of Minerva's hand.  
  
"Sedated and treated in an isolated ward," Minerva told him. He didn't notice the catch in her voice.  
  
"What about Tracey?" He had a good idea as to why she hadn't changed back from her Animagus form.  
  
Minerva sighed. "She suffered from dehydration and sustained an injury to her rib cage, but she'll be fine." She caught the concerned look in his eyes. "I helped her change back, Albus. It was her first transformation and she wasn't strong enough to change back on her own."  
  
He nodded and breathed a sigh of relief. "I thought as much. I didn't know she was working on the transformation, though."  
  
A faint blush appeared in her cheeks. "She decided she ought to try it because of all that had been happening this year. One of her strengths _is_ Transfiguration, after all."  
  
He nodded again. "Yes." He looked at her with a twinkle in his eyes. "I'm assuming you've been helping her?"  
  
Minerva smiled a little sheepishly and nodded. "Yes. She was going to try whether I helped her or not, so I figured I might as well help her."  
  
He smiled and squeezed her hand again. "I'm glad you did, Minerva."  
  
She held his gaze for a few moments before looking away, her blush deepening. "I'm glad you're going to recover, Albus. Hogwarts wouldn't be the same without you."  
  
He studied his deputy for a long moment. "I could say the same about you, my dear." Her cheeks were now bright red and she withdrew her hand from his grasp to twist it with the other in her lap. "Minerva? Is there something you wish to tell me?"  
  
She nodded, but didn't say anything for several moments. Finally, she took a deep breath and looked up at him. "Albus, when you told me about fans of the books in the universe Tracey came from writing stories pairing the two of us together last summer, it unsettled me greatly, as you had probably guessed." He nodded, not quite sure of where she was going. "Well, you deserve to know why." She paused and took several deep breaths, as if gathering her courage. "I've never been very good at expressing my feelings, but I don't want to lose you without telling you this at least." She took another deep breath. "I love you, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore. I don't expect you to return it, but I wanted you to know."  
  
She stood up to leave, but he managed to catch her hand and tugged her down to sit beside him on the bed. "My dear, I've been waiting to hear those words from you for years."  
  
She stared at him in surprise; her cheeks were still red, but not necessarily from embarrassment. "You have?"  
  
He nodded, raising a hand to caress her cheek. She leaned into the caress. He was almost certain he heard a trilling sound coming from her throat. "Yes, because I love you, Minerva Renee McGonagall."  
  
When he would have pulled her to him for a kiss, she resisted, bracing herself with her hands on either side of his shoulders. "What about Sandra? You must have felt _something_ for her."  
  
"My dear, Sandra is no longer a part of my life except through Tracey," he told her quietly, raising his other hand to caress her face. "You, on the other hand, are most definitely a part of my life." He stroked his thumbs along her cheekbones. "A very large part."  
  
She didn't resist when he pulled her to him for a sweet and long-overdue kiss. It was every bit as wonderful and intoxicating as he thought it would be. For the duration of that kiss, they were the only two people in the universe and Albus never wanted it to end. Unfortunately, they needed to breathe and Minerva was the one to end the kiss. She raised her head only centimeters from his, and they stared into each other's eyes, seeing the love each had for the other reflected in the bright blue and deep green depths.  
  
"It's about bloody time."  
  
Tracey's voice startled both of them and, within seconds, a sleek silver tabby had streaked out the door of the faculty ward. His lips still tingling from the kiss, Albus turned his head to see Tracey propped up on one elbow in the next bed over, a broad smile on her face. "Hello, Tracey. It's nice to see you awake and human."  
  
She grinned. "Hello, Father." She got up and plopped herself down in the chair by his bed. "I would imagine you have plenty of questions."  
  
Albus chuckled. "I seem to recall saying that to Mr. Potter before."  
  
Tracey stared at him for a moment, thinking. Suddenly her eyes widened and she laughed. "I suppose you did." Once she was able to control herself, she spoke again, "Well, _do_ you have any questions?"  
  
He nodded and shifted to sit up in the bed. Tracey waved her wand and a few more pillows appeared behind him. "Thank you, Tracey."  
  
"You're welcome, Father," she smiled and tucked her wand into the pocket of her robe. "Now, questions."  
  
"Yes, questions." Albus thought for a few moments. "First of all, how are _you_ feeling?"  
  
"I'm feeling fine, Father." She grinned impishly. "Especially after witnessing that kiss."  
  
He shook his head and studied her for a moment. "Seeing Minerva and I interact this past year didn't change your opinion, did it?"  
  
"Nope," she answered cheerfully. "If anything, it enforced the opinion."  
  
He raised an eyebrow. "Indeed?"  
  
She grinned. "Indeed, Father. You and Professor McGongall have no idea the sparks you give off when you're around each other. I'm amazed it took you two so long to admit to it."  
  
"I _am_ eighty years older than her, Tracey," Albus pointed out. "That's a rather sizeable barrier to overcome."  
  
Tracey shrugged. "Love doesn't ask your name or age, Father, it just is."  
  
Albus sighed and decided a change in subject was in order. "What happened after I fell unconscious?"  
  
Tracey toyed with the aquamarine pendant she was wearing. "Well, I tried changing back, but I couldn't, so I decided to attract attention the only way I could as a lioness: I roared."  
  
Albus chuckled. "I would imagine whoever came to rescue us was startled to hear a roar."  
  
Tracey's grin returned. "Yes, Professor Snape was a little hesitant to come in when he and Professor McGonagall arrived at our cell."  
  
Albus touched her knee. "You _can_ call them by their first names, you know."  
  
She shook her head. "I don't feel comfortable calling them Severus and Minerva just yet, although I wouldn't mind calling Professor McGonagall 'Mother'."  
  
Another chuckle. "Understood, Tracey. Please continue."  
  
Her smile faded. "The first thing Professor McGonagall did was confirm that I was the lioness she saw." She shook her head and sighed, running a hand through her hair. "The look on her face when she asked if you were alive was just heart-breaking, Father. There was both fear and hope there. It was as if she wanted to hope you were alive, but didn't want to get her hopes up." Albus sighed. "After she helped me change back, we managed to return here."  
  
"How?" Albus asked, puzzled.  
  
Tracey held up her necklace. "Alexandra had turned this into a portkey that could be activated by speaking certain words. I knew which words she intended to use, so that's how we got here."  
  
"Where at Hogwarts did you end up?" Albus asked, a little puzzled.  
  
"I would imagine she intended to make a dramatic entrance," Tracey replied with a shrug. "We landed in the Great Hall. Professor McGonagall got Poppy through the fireplaces and she took you and Alexandra up to the hospital wing on a couple floating stretchers." A wry smile appeared. "About halfway here, I passed out. Between the two of them, Professor McGonagall and Professor Snape got me up here. I woke up at some point last night to hear Professor McGonagall saying 'Amora Primus.'"  
  
She paused, studying her father's face. Albus considered what she had said. Realization slowly dawned. "First Love."  
  
She grinned, delighted. "I _knew_ you would know if the spell existed."  
  
Albus nodded absently. "How did Minerva know of it?"  
  
The grin turned decidedly sheepish. "Through me."  
  
He raised an eyebrow. "And where did _you_ hear about it?"  
  
She cleared her throat. "Um, a fan writer in the future actually wrote, uh, will write a story about that exact spell. When I got here, I did some research in the library and found it. Professor McGonagall happened by while I was doing the research and I told her about the spell."  
  
Albus shook his head in bemusement. "You're saying she invoked 'Amora Primus' to save my life?"  
  
Tracey nodded. "Yeah. I think it's great."  
  
He smiled. "You would, too."  
  
Her grin was unrepentant. "Of course! It's me!"  
  
Albus chuckled.  
  
* * *  
  
Poppy was not surprised to find Minerva perched on a window ledge in the North Tower fifteen minutes later, gazing out over the grounds. "Minerva, you can't keep running away from him."  
  
Minerva glanced over her shoulder at her friend, and then back out over the grounds. "I didn't run from Albus, Poppy. I told him of my feelings and he returns them."  
  
"Then why are you here and not with him?" Poppy asked, raising an eyebrow.  
  
The emerald-clad shoulders rose and fell as she sighed. "Tracey."  
  
Poppy frowned. "What about her?"  
  
Minerva turned to face her friend. "Do I really have the right to love him, Poppy? Would Tracey be happy with her father loving a woman who isn't her mother?"  
  
Poppy gave an exasperated sigh. "Minerva, you're blind in more ways than one."  
  
Minerva stared at Poppy, puzzled. "What do you mean?"  
  
"She has never given any indication that she's against you and Albus being together," Poppy informed Minerva patiently. "Quite the opposite, in fact, and I firmly believe that she sees you as her mother in this universe."  
  
"Her mother," Minerva murmured, turning to look out the window once more. "Albus once said that Tracey loves me like a mother and I confess that she's the daughter I never had, but can I truly be the mother she needs, Poppy?"  
  
Poppy laid a hand on Minerva's shoulder. "You already are, Min. She's already a grown woman. She just needs an older woman to lean on when she can't lean on her father."  
  
Minerva nodded absently, her eyes focused on the grounds of Hogwarts once more. Movement caught her attention and she looked more closely. When she recognized the movement for what it was, she muttered a curse under her breath. "He doesn't give up."  
  
"Minerva?" Poppy was concerned. The transfiguration professor rarely cursed, asserting that it only demonstrated a limited vocabulary. "What is it?"  
  
She pointed at the gates of the school. "What do you see, Poppy?"  
  
The mediwitch looked and cursed herself. "What should we do?"  
  
"Albus is hardly strong enough to do anything at this point," Minerva murmured, thinking out loud. "Do you think our pact will do any good?"  
  
"Only as a stopgap measure, Minerva," Poppy warned. "Until we can come up with something better."  
  
Minerva nodded. "Go get Sylvia and 'Mara. I'll meet you in the entrance hall."  
  
They left the North Tower together, but split up at the bottom of the stairs. Poppy headed for Xiomara's rooms and Minerva headed for the hospital wing.  
  
* * *  
  
"Minerva, I'll be needed," Albus objected when she had explained her plan to him and Tracey.  
  
"No, Albus." She shook her head firmly. "You're still weak from your battle with Alexandra. We can handle this."  
  
"Please, Father?" Tracey added, standing at Minerva's shoulder. "Trust us?"  
  
He looked from one to the other. He loved both of them so very much. Tracey because she was his daughter and Minerva because she was, well, Minerva. He sighed. "Very well. Just try not to get yourselves killed."  
  
Minerva smiled and brushed his hair back from his forehead. "I have no intention of getting myself killed, Albus."  
  
Tracey politely looked away as the two shared one last kiss, neither holding back. When Minerva finally pulled away, a burst of flames lit up the room for a moment. "Fawkes, hello." The phoenix trilled an arpeggio of notes that encouraged all three of them. "My friend, we need reinforcements."  
  
The phoenix trilled again and disappeared in another burst of flames. "Come, Tracey."  
  
"Yes, Professor." The two witches left the hospital wing. Sighing, Albus settled back against his pillows.  
  
* * *  
  
Minerva explained her plan to the assembled staff members, studiously undisturbed by the lioness sitting at her side. Upon first sight of the lioness, several staff members had panicked, but Minerva's calm prevented the panic from spreading. She finished outlining her plan and met each staff member's eyes. "Are we all clear?" There was a murmur of assent. "Very well, let's go."  
  
They trooped outside to the front steps of the castle. While Minerva, Poppy, Xiomara, and Sylvia remained on the top step, directly in front of the oak front doors, the others spread out in a semi-circle in front of the four women. Severus had objected to Poppy and Xiomara's part in the protection of the castle, pointing out that it would make more sense for the Heads of the four Houses to do it, but Minerva had explained that the spell they were going to use could only be invoked by the four witches. Severus had grudgingly conceded her point and vowed to protect the casters of the spell to the best of his ability.  
  
As he took up his position on the stone steps, he snuck a glance back at the four women. Xiomara glanced around at him and, for a brief moment, yellow eyes met black and held. Minerva tapped the shorter witch's shoulder and Xiomara reluctantly broke the eye contact. Sighing, Severus withdrew his wand from inside his robes and turned his back to the front doors, looking down the winding drive at the gates. He could see the mass of black that signaled the approach of Voldemort and the Death Eaters. He had felt the Dark Mark burn, but had refused to heed the call. He would pay for it later, he knew. The lioness sat at the center of the semi-circle, growling softly as narrowed blue eyes watched the approach of their enemies. Professors Sinistra and Vector, who stood on either side of her, shifted uneasily at the sound.  
  
In front of the oak doors, Minerva held up a gold and ruby pendant and touched the tip of her wand to it, crying out, "From my corner, I bring to the circle the gifts of Godric Gryffindor: leadership and bravery. I am the Lion: call on me in times of peril and I will bring aid, for I command the animals and they follow. I, Minerva Renee McGonagall, pledge my body, my soul, my heart, and my talents to you." The lioness at the center of the semicircle yowled as a tawny glow enveloped her.  
  
Beside Minerva, Poppy raised a bronze and sapphire pendant into the air and touched the tip of her wand to it, calling, "From my corner, I bring to the circle the gifts of Rowena Ravenclaw: knowledge and learning. I am the Eagle: find shelter under my wings in times of danger for I shall not let any harm come to those in my care. I, Poppy Imogene Pomfrey, pledge my body, my soul, my heart, and my talents to you." The screech of an eagle announced the appearance of a great bronze-colored eagle as it landed on the grass beside the lioness, who was now almost twice her previous size.  
  
Sylvia was the next to shout, an obsidian and topaz pendant clasped in the plump fist she raised into the air, touching her wand tip to it, "From my corner, I bring to the circle the gifts of Helga Hufflepuff: perseverance and loyalty. I am the Badger: find light within my bower in times of darkness, for I am a beacon to the lost and weary. I, Sylvia Pomona Sprout, pledge my body, my soul, my heart, and my talents to you." A loud 'nikinikiniki' preceded the appearance of a large black badger beside the eagle, who occasionally fluttered her wings, as if longing to take flight.  
  
Xiomara was the last to hold her hand up to the sky, a silver and emerald pendant in her hand as she touched her wand tip to it and almost screamed, "From my corner, I bring to the circle the gifts of Salazar Slytherin: cunning and ambition. I am the Serpent: find protection behind me in times of trouble, for I will strike down your enemies for you. I, Xiomara Rolanda Hooch, pledge my body, my soul, my heart, and my talents to you." A loud hiss broadcast the appearance of a huge dark green serpent beside the badger, who was growling deep in her throat as Voldemort and the Death Eaters drew closer.  
  
Together, the four women shouted, "In this time of peril, we call upon our pact to protect Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardy! _Draco Dormiens Nunquam Titillandus!_"  
  
With a roar, screech, bark, and hiss, the lioness, eagle, badger, and serpent charged forward and a shimmering purple barrier followed as they raced forward to confront Voldemort and his Death Eaters.  
  
A/N2: At this point in time Tracey and Albus are the only ones who know that Tracey actually comes from the future. 'Domus dulcis domus' is Latin for 'Home sweet home.' Oh, the AD/MM fluff is dedicated to all the shippers out there who have waded through fifteen chapters to read it. 


	17. Fighting and Fluff

Out of the Clear Blue Sky  
  
Chapter Seventeen - Fighting and Fluff  
  
A/N: I'm no good at action-type stuff, but I did my best with the battle. I'm better at fluff, so there's enough in here to rot your teeth! The Alastor/Poppy scene is dedicated to Thestral/Stephie, because it's 'her' ship. The Sev/Xio scene is dedicated to Filodea, because she specifically requested more of them. The Albus/Minerva fluff in general is dedicated to my fellow AD/MM-ers.  
  
Remus Lupin jumped when a burst of flame appeared in the middle of the kitchen. A single golden feather floated to the table. He snatched it up and gasped when a series of images played across his vision. Rubbing his eyes when the images were gone, he rushed from the room. "Tonks! We need to get to Hogwarts! And fast!"  
  
* * *  
  
Griffith Hooch and Alastor Moody were looking through information that had been provided by Severus Snape when a burst of flame distracted them. Griffith was the one to grab the single golden feather. The same images that Remus had seen played across his vision and he looked immediately to his friend when they were done. "We need to get to Hogwarts, Alastor. Stewart, too."  
  
Alastor nodded and immediately began gathering the papers scattered across the table. Griffith left the room in search of Stewart.  
  
* * *  
  
The four mascots stopped about halfway down the winding drive and spread out, waiting for Voldemort and the Death Eaters. The gates gave way and Voldemort led his Death Eaters onto the grounds. They paused when they saw the shimmering purple barrier and the four over-sized animals waiting for them. The red slit-pupiled eyes focused on the serpent and he hissed. The large serpent hissed back and Voldemort's head snapped back as if he'd been stung. He turned to his followers and issued his orders. The black-garbed figures obediently spread out to face the mascots. Voldemort raised one thin, pale arm and dropped it with a cry. The Death Eaters promptly began throwing curses at the closest mascot. The curses and hexes did little good, because the purple barrier would surge forward to prevent damage to the mascots. Voldemort called a cease-fire and gave the order to move forward.  
  
The mascots slowly retreated from the Death Eaters, the purple barrier moving with them. When the Death Eaters were within firing range, the teachers began firing spells at them. Their spells passed harmlessly through the barrier, but, when the Death Eaters tried to retaliate, their spells bounced off the barrier and, more often than not, ricocheted back into their ranks. One Death Eater chose to fire at the lioness and was rewarded with a screech of pain. The barrier flickered. Other Death Eaters picked up on this fact and began concentrating on the four mascots once more. The barrier's flickering became more erratic and the staff members began firing more spells in earnest, doing their best to thin the ranks of the Death Eaters before the barrier disappeared completely.  
  
When it finally did, the four mascots shrank until they were closer to the typical sizes of their species. The four of them held their ground as the Death Eaters plowed forward, firing hexes and curses at the teachers gathered in front of the stone steps. The lioness reared up and began attacking Death Eaters right and left, claws out and ripping, teeth bared. The eagle took flight and pecked at the Death Eaters' eyes and flapped her wings to blind them. The badger used her stubby claws and teeth to great effect and more than one Death Eater jumped in pain when the badger came their way. The serpent slithered in and amongst the Death Eaters' feet, sinking her fangs into flesh whenever she could. The poison in her fangs put the Death Eaters to sleep, effectively taking them out of the fight.  
  
As the battle continued, the spell that had sustained eagle, badger, and serpent weakened, the four women in front of the oak doors struggling to maintain the spell for as long as they could. It wasn't long before the four witches collapsed: the eagle, badger, and serpent disappearing not long afterwards. The lioness remained, much to the surprise of the Death Eaters. She continued raging among them, often coming to the aid of a particularly beleaguered staff member. The staff huddled around the four unconscious women, protecting them as best they could. The lioness, her teeth bared in a nasty snarl, prowled in front of the knot of staff members. They were cornered now. Though many Death Eaters were scattered unconscious or dead on the front lawns, there were still quite a few ready and able to attack.  
  
When all seemed lost, a trilling cry rang through the air, heralding the arrival of Fawkes, the phoenix. Close behind him came members of the Order, all on broomsticks. They landed and most didn't even bother dismounting before they started firing spells at the Death Eaters. Voldemort shouted a command and the Death Eaters melted away, leaving the staff members and the Order to pick up the pieces.  
  
More than one person stared as the lioness that had fought so fiercely became none other than Tracey Cooper. She was pale with fatigue; dried blood and mud were smeared on her robes and face. Her hair was an untamed mane of auburn that almost reached her waist. She spat out several mouthfuls of blood, none of it hers, and wiped her mouth on the sleeve her robe with an expression of disgust. She managed to work her way through the crowd surrounding the four witches in front of the oak doors. Sinistra and Vector had eased Minerva into a fireman's carry and led the way into the castle; Alastor Moody, looking worried, was cradling Poppy against his chest and following close behind them; Severus Snape had elbowed his way to Xiomara's side and, scooping her up, followed Alastor; Stewart Pomfrey was in the process of scooping up the unconscious Sylvia to follow Severus.  
  
"Let me help you," a quiet voice in Tracey's ear and an arm circling her waist startled her and she looked around at Griffith Hooch.  
  
She sighed and leaned on him, letting him pull her arm across his shoulders. "Thanks, Griffith."  
  
"You're welcome, Tracey," he replied as another arm circled her waist.  
  
"Thanks, Sarai." She was stumbling with exhaustion now; not resisting as her other arm was pulled over the other witch's shoulders.  
  
"You're welcome," the other witch answered cheerfully as the three of them climbed the front steps. "How long have you been an Animagus?"  
  
"Since last night," Tracey mumbled, sighing as they entered the entrance hall. "I've been working on it for most of the year with Professor McGonagall."  
  
"Where's Dumbledore?" Griffith asked as they started up the marble staircase. "I would have thought he'd be on the front lines."  
  
"The hospital wing," Tracey explained tiredly. "He was in a particularly nasty duel last night with a madwoman who's been stalking him since last August. Poppy and Professor McGonagall were barely able to save him as it is."  
  
When they reached the hospital wing, they found staff and Order members milling around aimlessly. Griffith and Sarai eased Tracey through the crowd and into the faculty wing, where Minerva, Poppy, Sylvia, and Xiomara were already resting in separate beds. Albus was talking with Alastor, Stewart, and Severus in quiet voices, his eyes frequently flicking towards Minerva. "Put me in the bed on the other side of Professor Dumbledore, please."  
  
If Griffith and Sarai were confused by the request, they didn't show it. They helped Tracey to the bed and she laid back against the pillows with a sigh. Albus finished his conversation with the other three wizards and they left to herd the healthy people out of the faculty wing. Surprisingly, Minerva, Sylvia, Xiomara, and Poppy were the only unconscious victims of the attack. The 'walking wounded' were being tended to by those who'd come away unscathed. As Tracey slowly succumbed to sleep, she vaguely heard voices bidding farewell to the others in the faculty wing. Just as sleep overtook her, she felt a long, thin hand brush her hair from her face and a comfortingly familiar voice murmur, "Well done, Tracey. Well done."  
  
* * *  
  
Poppy was the first to wake. Being a mediwitch, she was able to unconsciously heal herself somewhat. When she woke, Alastor was sitting in the chair beside her bed, waiting patiently for her to wake up. He smiled when he saw that she was awake. "Good morning, Poppy."  
  
"Good morning, Alastor," she murmured with a tired smile as she eased into a sitting position. A wave of Alastor's wand conjured two pillows on top of hers. "Thank you."  
  
"No thanks are necessary," he replied, moving from the chair to the bed. "You gave us quite a scare for a few moments there."  
  
She smiled wryly as he held her hand in both of his. "I imagine I did. We used a lot of power for that spell."  
  
"What _was_ it?" he asked softly. "I've never heard of a spell like that."  
  
She blushed slightly. "It's a spell Minerva, Sylvia, 'Mara, and I found when we were all fifth-year students. Each of us made a pendant to represent our House and met in the Room of Requirement wearing the colors of our House. When you think about it, it's more of a pact than a spell. All four of us need to be present for it to work properly and the form it takes depends on the situation. We can also use the pendants to summon each other if necessary."  
  
"What other situations have you used this spell or pact in?" he asked, rubbing his thumb over the back of her hand.  
  
"Once, Minerva was picked on as a cat during the fight against Grindelwald and we had to invoke the pact to save her." Poppy squeezed his hand. "Though she was unconscious, it was almost as if she spoke the words in our heads."  
  
He nodded, looking thoughtful. "Are you feeling alright?"  
  
She nodded in return. "Just a little tired."  
  
He smiled. "Maybe I can help with that."  
  
Before she could ask what he meant, his mouth covered hers in a warm kiss.  
  
* * *  
  
Sylvia was the next to awake. When she did, it was to find Stewart Pomfrey dozing in the chair beside her bed. She studied him as he slept. Unlike her own brother, Steven, Stewart had never bullied her. He had accepted her presence as Poppy's friend and left it at that. Alastor had never objected to her, either. The two had been like brothers to her. They had teased her, of course, but they had never deliberately hurt her feelings. If they had by accident, they always apologized handsomely.  
  
Being the shortest and plumpest of the group, she'd often found herself to be the butt of many a joke or prank. Her tormentors had quickly learned to wait for moments when she was alone, because Minerva, Poppy, and Xiomara would jump to her aid without a second thought and Alastor and Stewart would waste no time defending Sylvia as well.  
  
Yet, she'd found herself developing a crush on Stewart. She knew from the start that it'd be hopeless because _he_ had a crush on Xiomara. Sylvia had gone on with her life, but Stewart's supposed 'death' had hit her hard. She'd mourned his passing for several months. His return had cheered her up immensely, though his skin and bones appearance had worried her. She'd chosen to be there for him, even though she was only a sister to him, because she couldn't do anything less than that.  
  
As she watched, he stirred and stretched before opening his eyes to look at her. "Oh, good afternoon, Sylvia."  
  
"Good afternoon, Stewart," she replied, returning his smile with a weak one of her own. "How long have I been out of it?"  
  
"A couple days," he told her quietly, scooting his chair closer to the bed. "You had me worried for a few moments."  
  
"Why?" she asked. "I'm just another sister to you."  
  
He shrugged. "I'm not real sure, but seeing you unconscious at the top of the steps didn't really make my day."  
  
"What about Poppy or Xiomara?" she pressed. "Minerva?"  
  
"They were each in good hands, Sylvia," he answered, his voice gentle. "I didn't see anyone rushing to your aid, so I did."  
  
She felt a lump rise in her throat. "Thank you, Stewart."  
  
"You're welcome, Sylvia." He leaned forward and kissed her forehead. Before he could resume his seat, she grabbed him by the shoulders and kissed him. When she released him, his eyes were wide and he reached up to touch his lips. "Er, what was that for?"  
  
Feeling her face heat up, she explained softly, "I've been wanting to do that for years, but you never indicated that it would be welcome, so I didn't."  
  
"Oh." she dropped her gaze to her knees; almost wishing she could take it back. He didn't give her time to gather her thoughts, as she felt the bed dip when he sat down beside her, and then tilted her face up to his. "How did that go again?"  
  
Before she could say a word, his mouth had descended upon hers in a tentative kiss that quickly deepened into something more as she gave herself up to it.  
  
* * *  
  
Third to wake up was Xiomara and she found Severus beside her in the bed, his arms wrapped tightly around her, fast asleep. Smiling, she stretched up slightly to kiss him. After only a few moments, the arms around her tightened and he deepened the kiss. "Severus, 'Mara, I suggest you save that for the bedroom."  
  
Poppy's voice caused the couple to reluctantly break apart. "Hi, Sev."  
  
"Good evening, Xio," he replied, kissing her forehead.  
  
"How long have I been dead to the world?" she asked, snuggling against him.  
  
"Almost three days," he told her, resting his chin on top of her head.  
  
Her voice was worried when she asked her next question. "Have you been summoned?"  
  
"I _was_ summoned prior to the attack on Hogwarts, but I'd not had a chance to tell anyone. If I had answered the summons, I would have found a way to fight for Hogwarts."  
  
She nodded, pressing close to him. "Will Moldy-Voldy be angry with you for fighting against him?"  
  
He shrugged. "Most likely, but I have dealt with his anger before."  
  
She wrapped her arms around his chest tightly, pressing her face into the crook of his neck. "You're not alone, though. Remember that."  
  
"I will, Xio," he assured her, kissing the top of her head. "I will."  
  
* * *  
  
Minerva was the last wake and it was with a splitting headache. She wanted nothing more than to go back to sleep, but knew the attempt would be unsuccessful. Without moving her head, she looked around. She was in the faculty ward of Hogwarts. Sitting on either side of her bed, Albus Dumbledore and Tracey Cooper were both fast asleep. While the young woman was curled up like a cat in her chair, Albus sat with her hand in both of his. She smiled to herself and squeezed the hands holding hers. Albus' head immediately jerked up and his eyes sought hers. He smiled when he saw that she was awake. "Hello, Minerva."  
  
"Hello, Albus," she replied. "How long have I been unconscious?"  
  
"Three and a half days," he answered promptly, moving from the chair to perch on the bed beside her hip. "Poppy, Sylvia, and Xiomara have all regained consciousness already."  
  
"Why am I always the last to regain consciousness?" she asked plaintively.  
  
"Because you are the most powerful of the four of you," he explained, stroking the back of her hand with his long fingers. "The spell recognizes that and, thus, draws more from you than the other three."  
  
Minerva nodded, but quickly stopped when it made her headache worse. "Did it work, though? Is He-With-The-Ridiculous-Name gone?"  
  
"Yes, Professor," Tracey answered as Albus chuckled at Minerva's name for Voldemort, rising from her chair to perch on the other side of the bed. "Mainly because the Order arrived not long after you, Poppy, Sylvia, and 'Mara fell unconscious."  
  
Minerva studied the younger witch for a moment. She was wearing turquoise blue robes over a pale cream dress, her aquamarine pendant circling her neck. Her auburn hair fell in loose waves around her shoulders. The bright blue depths of the eyes behind the glasses, however, were haunted. Minerva stretched out her other hand to Tracey and the young woman took it. "You killed, didn't you?"  
  
She dropped her gaze to the floor, biting her lip. "Yes, I did. I didn't have a choice."  
  
"Tracey, look at me," Minerva prompted. Reluctantly, the bright blue eyes came up and met Minerva's dark green ones. "There is nothing more final than killing someone, but it was a matter of kill or be killed. You know that. You did what was needed to survive."  
  
Tears appeared in her eyes and she blinked them away. "It's not that, Professor. You know, of course, that I chose to fight as a lioness. When I was actually fighting, though, I let the lioness take over. She tore the Death Eaters up using her claws. She snapped and bit." Tracey shuddered. "And she enjoyed it. She reveled in the rending of flesh, the crushing of bones, the taste of blood."  
  
"And you, Tracey?" Minerva asked quietly, gazing steadily at the younger woman.  
  
"And I was sickened by it," Tracey whispered, pulling away and walking over to stand by the window, unshed tears glittering in the eyes so like her father's. "I didn't want to kill. When I changed back, my mouth was full of blood. It wasn't mine, but I hated the taste of it."  
  
"That's what makes you different, Tracey," Minerva told her softly. "You do not delight in killing as the Wild does. When you take your form, you have the choice of giving in to the lioness, or controlling her."  
  
Tracey turned to look at the older woman. "I don't know if I _can_ control her, Professor. Her presence is so strong and vibrant." She raised haunted eyes to her mentor. "I don't know if I even _want_ to control her."  
  
Albus had been listening quietly and now rose to gather his daughter to him in a comforting hug. "Tracey, you became an Animagus in very stressful circumstances. In a normal situation, Minerva would have been present to help you cope. She wasn't there, and you didn't know how to control the lioness. Before we could give you any training, you had to become the lioness again and let her have control because it was easier. Now Minerva and I can give you the training you need to control the lioness. We'll help you learn, Tracey." Tears silently rolled down his cheeks. "I give you my word."  
  
Tracey clung to her father, her shoulders shaking. Albus slowly eased her over to sit on the bed beside Minerva and the Transfiguration professor added herself to the embrace, letting the young woman know she was there. It didn't take long for a small, slender hand to find one of Minerva's and entwine with it. They stayed that way for a long time.  
  
* * *  
  
The rest of the school year passed peacefully and Tracey watched from her rooms as the carriages, each drawn by a thestral, trundled down the long, winding drive. Her father and Minerva (she'd insisted upon Tracey calling her by her given name) had worked with Tracey on learning to control the lioness, but the young woman was still hesitant to call upon her. As she'd told them, the lioness was a wild and beautiful creature, with a strong spirit and regality that awed Tracey. As she'd told them, she wasn't sure if she _wanted_ to control the lioness. As she stood there, a knock on the door of her rooms startled. She turned from the window as she called, "Come in."  
  
The door opened far enough for Griffith Hooch to poke his head around it. "Hi, Tracey."  
  
"Hi, Griffith." She walked over to the sofa in front of the fireplace and sat down. "Why don't you have a seat?"  
  
"Thank you." He entered and crossed the room and sat down at the other end of the sofa. "How are you doing?"  
  
She raised an eyebrow at him. "I'm fine. Why do you ask?"  
  
"I've spoken with Minerva," he told her quietly. "She says you haven't been yourself."  
  
Tracey sighed and looked down at her hands in her lap. "She's right, you know. I haven't been myself."  
  
He moved closer, resting his arm along the back of the sofa. "Why? Why haven't you been yourself?"  
  
She sighed again and looked into the smoldering embers in the fireplace. "The lioness."  
  
She shivered when the tips of his fingers trailed along the curve of her cheek. "You're afraid of her, aren't you?"  
  
Her eyes flashed as she turned her head to look at him. "I'm a Gryffindor, Griffith. I'm supposed to be brave."  
  
"Being brave doesn't mean you're fearless, Tracey," his voice was soft and gentle, "it means you do something in spite of your fear."  
  
She closed her eyes and turned her head away. "I can't even do that, Griffith."  
  
When he gently turned her face to his, her eyes fluttered open and she stared up at him. "Yes, you can, Tracey. I know it."  
  
"How can you be sure?" she whispered, acutely aware of the fact that he hadn't dropped his hand.  
  
"Because I know you," he murmured.  
  
When his mouth covered hers in a gentle kiss, her eyes opened wide, and then fluttered closed as she responded to it. When he ended the kiss, her eyes opened languidly. "Wow."  
  
He chuckled, reaching up to bury his free hand in her hair. "I've wanted to kiss you since last October."  
  
"Are you serious?" she asked, surprised. He nodded. "I thought you were quite handsome from the moment we met."  
  
He smiled and lowered his head to capture her lips in another kiss.  
  
* * *  
  
"I think I prefer this to playing chess," he murmured, pressing a kiss to her temple.  
  
Rather than scold him, she snuggled deeper into his embrace. Though it had been little more than a month since Minerva had told Albus of her feelings for him, they were quite comfortable with each other, having been friends for so long. "Mmm, I agree, Albus."  
  
He chuckled softly and rested his cheek on the top of her head. "I do worry about Tracey sometimes."  
  
"I talked with Griffith earlier," she commented, stroking the back of the hand resting on her stomach. "He promised me he'd speak with Tracey."  
  
He nodded. "Thank you, Minerva."  
  
"You're welcome, Albus." She lifted his hand to press a kiss to the back of it.  
  
Silence reigned for a long moment. "Minerva?"  
  
"Mmm?" came the drowsy reply.  
  
"Will you marry me?"  
  
******Finis*****  
  
A/N2: More dedications, because I didn't want to ruin it for you: the Stewart/Sylvia scene is dedicated to all the people out there who think they'll never have somebody. You never know. The Griffith/Tracey scene is dedicated to those of you who've come to like Griffith. Don't worry, there's an epilogue on the way! 


	18. Epilogue: Reunions

Out of the Clear Blue Sky  
  
Epilogue - Reunions  
  
Sandra Andrews sat brooding in her living room. It had been a year since her daughter, Tracey, had disappeared. A whole year since her only link to her first husband had vanished without a trace. Though Tracey had been declared dead, Sandra had never truly believed her daughter was dead.  
  
The sound of the doorbell ringing disturbed Sandra from her reverie. Wondering who it could be, she got up to answer the door. A small, slender woman with wavy auburn hair, bright blue eyes, and wearing a cream-colored blouse, denim capris, and cream-colored slip-ons stood on the front porch. A man about half a foot taller stood beside the woman. He had golden-brown hair, blue-gray eyes, and wore a dark gray shirt with the top couple buttons undone, black slacks, and black loafers. In her arms, the woman held a bundle of purple blankets. After staring for a few moments, Sandra finally found her voice. "May I help you?"  
  
"Sandra Andrews?" the man asked, blue-gray eyes studying her carefully.  
  
She nodded, a little wary. "Yes, that would be me. Who are you?"  
  
It was the woman who answered. "Don't you recognize me?"  
  
"Well, you remind me of my daughter, Tracey," Sandra admitted.  
  
The woman smiled shyly. "I'm Tracey."  
  
Sandra felt the blood drain from her face. "No, my daughter would be 21, not 25."  
  
The woman looked amused, although Sandra could have sworn she saw tears glittering in the blue eyes. "Actually, I'm 28."  
  
Sandra stared, her hand clenching around the doorknob. "T-Tracey?"  
  
The younger woman nodded, a lone tear trickling down her cheek. "Yes, Mom, I'm alive and well."  
  
"Oh, Tracey." Sandra opened the screen door and pulled her daughter into a hug. A cry from the bundle of blankets startled them and Sandra pulled back. "I think it's time we talked."  
  
Tracey nodded and moved past her mother into the house. The man followed. As Sandra closed the door, Tracey asked, "Where are Ryan, Lynda, and Jeff?"  
  
"Ryan took Lynda to look at cars," Sandra explained as they moved into the living room. "Jeff's at football practice."  
  
"Football?" the man asked as he and Tracey seated themselves on the couch and Sandra sat down in the chair facing them.  
  
"Don't worry, Griffith," Tracey patted the man's hand with hers. She turned to her mother. "A year ago, Tracey Cooper sat up late, typing a fic on her computer. She typed and typed and typed until she finished the fic she was writing. When she finished, she began to read the story over to check for any grammatical or mechanical errors. Something happened to her computer and the next thing she knew, she fell into Hogwarts' lake."  
  
Sandra stared at her daughter once more. "Tracey, what are you saying?"  
  
"I was transported through space and time to Hogwarts on July 4, 1996," Tracey explained. "Though I fell into the lake, Professor Minerva McGonagall was there to pull me out," Sandra breathed a sighed of relief. "Not long after I came face to face with none other than Albus Dumbledore, we figured out that he was my father."  
  
"You mean Albus is alive?" Sandra asked, startled.  
  
Tracey grinned and nodded. "Yep, and still going strong."  
  
"He must be close to 160 years old by now," Sandra exclaimed softly.  
  
"One more year," Tracey confirmed with a smile.  
  
Sandra shook her head and studied the man sitting beside her daughter. "Who is this?"  
  
"This is my husband, Griffith Hooch," Tracey informed her mother, smile still in place.  
  
"Husband?" Sandra asked weakly. Tracey and Griffith nodded. Sandra nodded to the bundle of blankets. "I'm guess that's your baby, then."  
  
Tracey nodded again, peeling back the blankets to reveal a baby with auburn hair and wide blue-gray eyes. "Yes, this is Jessica."  
  
"May I hold her?" Sandra requested.  
  
"Of course." Tracey stood up and walked over to place the baby in her grandmother's arms.  
  
"Tell me everything," Sandra requested once her granddaughter was firmly ensconced.  
  
"Everything about what, Mom?" Tracey asked, puzzled, as she returned to her seat on the couch.  
  
"What happened after you ended up at Hogwarts," Sandra clarified.  
  
Tracey looked a little sheepish. "Er, that was eight years ago for me, Mom."  
  
"Eight?" Sandra was so surprised that her hold on Jessica faltered. The baby would have been hurt if Griffith hadn't pulled out his wand and summoned the baby to him. "Did you go back in time?"  
  
Tracey nodded. "Yes, I said so before." She pulled an envelope out of her pocket. "It would take me too long to explain everything at once, but here's a letter that might help."  
  
Sandra took it with shaking hands. Even after 21 years, she recognized the writing on the envelope. She opened it and pulled out the letter inside.  
  
~Dear Sandra,  
  
From what Tracey has told me, only 21 years has passed since you last saw me. I last saw you 130 years ago. I did not know you had been transported 119 years into the future. I was devastated, of course, but I moved on. I had no choice.  
  
After our daughter's rather unorthodox arrival, I had a friend of mine in America look around. She found you, your husband, Tracey, Lynda, and Jeffrey. I kept this information to myself for a few months before telling Tracey. She was ready to go see you right that minute, but I explained to her that we would have to wait.  
  
These past eight years with Tracey have been very fulfilling. Now, if you'll lower the letter and look at Tracey and Griffith, you'll see that you have some more visitors...~  
  
Sandra did and drew in a breath when she saw the handsome barn owl perched on Tracey's shoulder. She barely registered the silver tabby cat curled up in Tracey's lap. "Albus?"  
  
The owl took off from Tracey's shoulder and became Albus Dumbledore, looking much older and grayer than Sandra had last seen him. "Hello, Sandra."  
  
"I never thought I'd see you again." She stood and practically fell into his arms. They held each other close for several moments before Sandra deliberately disentangled herself, wiping the tears from her cheeks. "Thank you, Albus. I've missed you."  
  
He gently wiped the tear tracks from her cheeks. "I've missed you, too." Someone cleared their throat and Albus looked up. "Ah, yes. There's someone I'd like you to meet, Sandra."  
  
She turned to see a tall, slender woman with black hair pulled back into a French braid, dark green eyes, and wearing an emerald green blouse, a black A-line skirt, and practical black pumps. "Er, hi."  
  
Inexplicably, Tracey giggled. "What's so funny?" The tall woman spoke with a trace of a Scottish brogue  
  
"I'm sorry," Tracey replied, stifling her giggles, "but I haven't heard Mom sound so British in years."  
  
Sandra laughed at that. "I guess you're right."  
  
"Anyway," the woman spoke again. "I'm Minerva Dumbledore."  
  
"Sandra Andrews," Sandra shook the taller woman's hand, noting the ring on Minerva's left hand. "I'm guessing you're married to Albus?"  
  
The corners of Minerva's mouth tilted upwards. "Yes. For the last seven years."  
  
Just then, the front door opened. "Mom, we're home! We found the sweetest car! Oh."  
  
Sixteen-year-old Lynda stopped short upon entering the living room, hazel eyes going wide. "Lynda, what is it?" Ryan appeared behind his daughter, dark eyes taking in the four strangers in his living room with his wife. "Um, who are you?"  
  
"Hi, Dad," Tracey replied quietly, standing up and moving so he could see her better.  
  
"Oh my God." He stared at her, copper skin paling. "Tracey?"  
  
She nodded, blinking rapidly. "Yes, Dad. I'm most definitely alive."  
  
"Tracey!" Lynda flew across the room and flung her arms around her sister. "You're alive!"  
  
Tracey laughed as she hugged her sister back. "Where's Jeff?"  
  
"Still at football practice," Ryan replied, coming in to kiss his wife hello. Sandra was smiling by the time he lifted his head. "So, would anyone mind telling me what's going on here?"  
  
Lynda had been staring hard at Albus and Minerva and now shrieked. "Oh my freakin' goodness!"  
  
"Lynda!" Tracey exclaimed, glaring at her younger sister.  
  
The teen quailed under her sister's glare. "Sorry, Tracey, but am I right in assuming that he," she pointed at Albus, "is Albus Dumbledore and she," pointing at Minerva, "is Minerva McGonagall? From the Harry Potter books?"  
  
Tracey grinned, "Well, yes, but it's Minerva Dumbledore now."  
  
Lynda looked from one professor to the other. "This is so cool! I didn't know the books were real."  
  
While Lynda and Tracey had been talking, Albus and Minerva had sat down on the couch, leaving enough space for Tracey to sit between Albus and Griffith, and Ryan had sat down in the chair facing the couch, pulling Sandra down to sit in his lap. "Lynda?"  
  
"Yeah, Mom?" Lynda turned to her mother as Tracey sat down as well.  
  
"Sit and be quiet." Sandra told her younger daughter firmly.  
  
"All right." Lynda plopped down on the floor. "Now what?"  
  
Albus sighed. "We begin at the beginning, Miss Andrews." Lynda made a face at the name, but did not comment. "I grew up with your mother, Sandra--"  
  
"Hold up!" Lynda inserted. "Wasn't that during the mid-1800s?"  
  
"Yes, Lynda, it was," Sandra confirmed. "If you'll listen quietly, we'll explain."  
  
The teen subsided and Albus resumed his story. "I was surprised to find I was a wizard, but pleased all the same. I visited with Sandra during my holidays, but could not tell her I was a wizard until I began to court her. We were married not long after I finished my schooling at Hogwarts." Lynda opened her mouth to ask a question, but a glance at Tracey shut Lynda's mouth. "The next year or so was pure heaven. It seemed nothing could take it away from us. When Sandra became pregnant with Tracey, it felt like nothing could stop us. Then, Sandra went shopping for baby clothes one day and never returned." His voice was bleak. "I searched everywhere for her, but never found her. After several months, I assumed her dead and moved on with my life."  
  
"However," Sandra inserted as Tracey transferred Jessica from Griffith to Albus, "I had not died, but somehow ended up being transported from England in 1864 to southern California in 1983. To this day, I never figured out how I went from walking along a street in the local town to falling on top of Ryan."  
  
Ryan grinned as Albus handed the baby to Minerva. "That was a bit of a surprise, let me tell you. I was just walking along, minding my own business, when this lovely lady in an authentic Victorian-style dress fell out of the clear blue sky and landed on top of me. Naturally, we ended up in a heap on the ground, but I did what any gentleman would do in this situation. I helped her to her feet and asked if she was alright."  
  
Lynda giggled, and then caught sight of the baby. "I'm sorry to interrupt, but whose baby is that?"  
  
"Mine, Lynda," Tracey replied. "Her name is Jessica and you may hold her if you like."  
  
"Thanks!" Lynda stood up and accepted the baby, entranced with her peacefully-sleeping face.  
  
"At any rate, I invited Sandra home with me so we could talk," Ryan resumed his explanation. "She told me her story and I offered to let her stay with me. After a week, I asked her to marry me, so her sense of propriety about staying with an unmarried man would be satisfied."  
  
Sandra smiled. "I was still very much in love with you, Albus, when I married Ryan, but he didn't insist on physical intimacy at all. He wanted me to take things at my pace. He was there when Tracey was born and loves her as much as he loves Lynda and Jeff." Tracey beamed, swiping at the tears trickling down her cheeks. "I _do_ have a question, though."  
  
"Go ahead and ask it, Sandra," Albus encouraged. "I don't guarantee anyone will have an answer for you."  
  
Sandra nodded. "Is Tracey a witch?"  
  
"Yep!" Tracey confirmed with a nod.  
  
"Then why were you never invited to attend one of the schools for magic in America?" Lynda was the one who voiced the question as she returned Jessica to Tracey.  
  
"The American Magic Academy has several branches spread out around the country. It is not nearly as old as Hogwarts and I'm afraid they're still adjusting the spells that detect magical children among Muggles," Albus explained. "The nearest branch, located in Colorado, is one of the newer branches. I would not be surprised if the spells there still need some adjusting. Consequently, it's quite possible that it overlooked Tracey."  
  
Lynda frowned. "What about the other branches? Wouldn't one of them found her?"  
  
Minerva shook her head. "Each branch covers a certain area and no farther. If the Colorado Academy didn't detect Tracey, she didn't get an invitation to attend."  
  
"If I had, Mom, would you have let me?" Tracey asked, looking at her mother.  
  
Sandra nodded. "Of course. I never forgot Albus, or the wizarding world. I sometimes wondered if you could be witch, but, when no letter arrived before you started middle school, I assumed I'd been dreaming."  
  
"What about me and Jeff?" Lynda burst out suddenly.  
  
"Jeff and I," Tracey corrected her sister. Lynda stuck her tongue out at Tracey and the elder returned the favor.  
  
"You're wondering if you could be magical?" Albus asked. Lynda nodded, curly black hair bouncing around her shoulders. "Well, it's possible, but you would both need to be tested for it."  
  
"Tested for what?" Jeffery's voice drew all eyes to the doorway. "Whoa, what's with all the people here?"  
  
"Hi, Jeff," Tracey greeted him.  
  
"Hi, Tracey," he replied, wiping his forehead. Then he froze. "Wait, I thought you were dead."  
  
"Come in, Jeff," Ryan instructed his son. "There's a lot of explaining we need to do."  
  
******Finis****** 


End file.
